The Inference
by clovestraddle
Summary: An infectious flesh-decaying chemical is dispersed by air across the globe, yet there are some who've managed to escape it. And at Degrassi, the most unlikely group of students have no choice but to band together and try to keep each other alive. But is it really possible? Written in Multi-POV.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Chapter One: _Connor D._

I think it's been about a week since the initiation. The days have merged into the nights and vice versa. I haven't been entirely sure, so I sit here thinking about it often. We've taken shelter in a concealed underground carpark and we've locked ourselves in. This hideout was Owen's idea. It's proven to be quite sturdy and well-protected, but the problem is that it's right in the center of town, where the canisters were first dropped. To think that this was all due to an insane man. A man who became so obsessed with a fandom that it drove him to recreate the terror in real life. Now the infection is everywhere. At first, it came in from the canisters and dropped down into the air vents of several buildings. We were all in the music room at the time. That room is air locked shut and no vents reach it due to noise pollution. We had to watch through the music room window as green mist protruded from canisters outside and engulfed other students.

Students we knew. Students we hated, students we liked. Fiona Coyne being one of the first. I remember looking up once the fog had cleared to see her staring at us. At first we thought she was just angry because we didn't let her into the canister-free music room even if she had been banging against the glass and begging. I still can't believe we froze and didn't let her in. We were selfish and paranoid. We were idiots. Absolute idiots for leaving her there. Not a day goes by where I don't kick myself for it. Imogen felt guiltiest. She was the only one who unlocked the music room door and rushed outside to apologize to her._ A fatal, and drastically unfortunate mistake._ The second Fiona attacked her we locked the door again, afraid. Nobody went out to save miss Imogen Moreno. It was too late, anyhow. No one else knew what was going on except for me. We watched as the students attacked Imogen and knew that we had to escape. Tori slowed us down because she said Zig was in there with them. Zig Novak, the guitarist and vocalist of WhisperHug. He was in there with Fiona and we couldn't save him. I think Tori still blames herself.

We ran to the storage room and climbed through the window out into the open. Exposure was necessary. And despite how most of us could never get along, we managed to stick together that day. So, being left without any other options, we ran through the streets in a group. This may have made us an easier target but the havoc elsewhere distracted the infected away from us. All I can remember is the sound of screaming and explosives going off. Cars crashed into the sides of shops and people were running in different directions, making it hard for us to stay in one group. That's when Owen saw the storage house and said something about him visiting it one time with Tristan.

It would be important for me to note that Adam's parents are dead. Or, rather, _un_dead. Just as we were close to the storage building Adam spotted his car and starting running to it, probably in hope to save them. But the windows were cracked and covered in blood. Both Audra and Omar Torres were infected by the time Adam reached the pavement. Drew was standing nearby as well. We tried to lure him into our group but he ended up sprinting in the opposite direction after Jake. Therefore separating the Torres family. For good, maybe. Eli hauled Adam back into the storage building before his parents could chase after us. He hasn't spoken since then. He's traumatized, I think. He screams incompetently in his sleep now, and he cries alone when he's awake. Other than that he never says a word. Even Clare can't comfort him. But as for the rest of our families, well, we have no idea where they are or what state they're in. All lines are down and we can't go searching. Yet.

We're all stuck here in this mess together, locked away underground, hoping that the infected don't sniff us out. We're running low on supplies, too. We don't know where anyone else is and we haven't gone outside since we arrived. We need food, water, proper shelter and weaponry. One wrong move and we're all dead. All of us. Our group. Consisting of _Dallas, Clare, Eli, Adam, Maya, Tori, Tristan, Owen, Cam and the Baker siblings. And of course, me._ The hockey players are with us because they broke into the music room before the initation. They were there to tease Cam and Tristan for being there, and ended up getting locked in by the time the canisters dropped. Becky was there to complain about the musical again, and she's no use for anything, ever. In fact, I think the Bakers are worse than the entire hockey team. They're always praying and going on about Jesus and whatnot. They're still bitter about the musical and they definitely do not like Tristan or Adam. Or anyone else, really.

I don't know how we're going to get out of this nightmare. Especially with Becky screaming and fainting every time she hears a loud noise. And Adam, being traumatized by the infection of his parents and not knowing where Drew is. And Tori, endlessly depressed and blaming herself for losing Zig. We're all trapped several feet underground, while the undead roam above us.

But we have a plan. Eli's sketched up a map of town and we plan to leave for the police station for weapons.

Tonight.


	2. The Takeover

**THE TAKEOVER **

Chapter Two: _Luke B._

I'm trying my best not to show it but I'm nervous. Tonight's the night we finally leave. If it is nighttime.

"Okay," Connor begins, rolling the map out over a makeshift table we've constructed out of cardboard boxes. I kneel down beside him as our group crowds around. Everyone but that Adam kid, who's been sulking ever since we arrived. "So, Luke, you're driving, right?" Connor asks. I look back at him and nod.

"I guess so." I say. I know Owen considers himself the leader of our group, but I wouldn't trust him behind a wheel right now. Not him, not anyone, and especially not Eli. Connor looks at me for a moment, as if he's doubting me.

"You sure?" He asks. My eyes narrow and my face twists into a sneer.

"Of course I'm sure." I snap, before shaking my head and rolling my eyes. He sighs and leans over the map again. Connor draws a direct line from where we are to where the police station is. It should be abandonned by now so access shouldn't be that difficult. But if it's nighttime then it'll be generally more difficult to go about our business, since the infected could be anywhere, and they _will_ chase us.

"What happens if we get caught?" Maya, the one Cam likes, asks. Despite my immediate hatred towards her, I admire her courage and how she seems to be the only one from the younger students who hasn't had a breakdown yet. She's keeping together quite well. "Do we fight back or retreat?" She asks.

"We don't have any weapons, we can't possibly fight them." Eli says. Maya sits back in her place on the floor, looking up at the map.

"So we retreat." She says, as if she wants confirmation. Eli nods.

"We retreat."

"And if they follow?" She asks. The question seems to startle Eli for a moment, but he later sighs.

"Then we better hope Luke's a good driver." He grumbles, standing from the table. I feel eyes on me and my neck starts to heat up. Becky touches my arm and rubs my shoulder in a comforting manner.

"The Lord will be with you every step, don't forget that." She tells me from my side. I don't want to tell Becky this, but I'm having my doubts now. I can't imagine any of this being something God would condone. It has me puzzled. And I'm sure Becky is too, but like me, isn't ready to say it.

"I won't." I mutter reassuringly, mostly for her sake instead of mine. She smiles and pats my arm.

"Good." She says before standing to her feet. Connor waits for me to take a final look at the map. I'm sure he notices my hesitation. I know that if I mess this up there's no turning back for any of us, even if I despise Tristan and that transgender kid Adam. I swallow hard and look away, nodding as if to signal Connor that I'm ready. He rolls the map back up and stands. I sit there, staring blankly at the cardboard boxers that remain. I turn back to see Dallas and Owen pulling the covers off a van that's been parked to the side since our arrival. They clean the windows and manage to break in. I let them rewire the car and sit there on my own. The group has crowded around the van now, checking through it, cleaning it. I'm not entirely sure if I have enough confidence for this, which is odd considering that I do for most things. I look up and see Torres sitting on his own as well. His eyes are shut but I know he's not sleeping because his hands tremble. I look away shaking my head. In a couple of seconds, I hear someone sit beside me so I turn my head to meet Clare's gaze. I already hate her.

"What?" I snap quickly. Clare doesn't seem phased by me, and only glares at me in return.

"Just here to wish you luck, Luke. You don't need to get angry with me any time I'm around you. Or Tristan for that matter. Or Adam." She says scoldingly. I purse my lips together bitterly and nod.

"Whatever." I end up saying. Clare rolls her eyes and gives up on the conversation. She stands to her feet and returns to Eli. I can just about make out her saying something along the lines of 'I tried' and then he hugs her. I sigh as well and stand, making my way over to the van. "How're we doing?" I ask once I'm close enough. Owen glances up at me from the driver's seat.

"Everything seems to be working just fine. We should be good to go in just a bit." He states.

"Cool." I nod and smirk a bit, though I feel a knot in my throat starting to build. Owen pulls the car door semi-shut, tracing the lining of it. He glances up from his work quickly before looking back down.

"Is Madame Torres joining us?" He asks with a grin that I quickly mimic. Just as I start to chuckle, Maya come out of nowhere and slams the door on Owen's fingers. He gasps and yelps in pain, shoving the door open again. It misses me by just an inch. Owen looks down from the high driver's seat, glaring at Maya furiously. "What the hell, Matlin?" He shouts. Maya steps forward fearlessly.

"Don't call Adam that ever again." She instructs through her teeth. Owen stares at her when she gives him a sour look before turning away, returning to her conversation with Tristan. Owen looks down at his fingers, that now look as if they're going to swell incredibly soon. He groans in frustration and turns back to the steering wheel to examine it. I smirk and lean forward.

"You just got schooled by a niner." I mutter to him. His face twitches to anger and embarrassment all at once.

"Whatever." He scoffs, without turning to me. I grin a bit and lean against the van, waiting for everything to get done. Clare paces across the room and kneels down by Adam, who still has his eyes shut. She puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers something to him. After a moment of hovering beside him, Torres slowly opens his eyes again and gazes up towards the van. He looks unsettled and uneasy about whatever Clare's telling him. But he nods after awhile, and uses the wall to stand. Clare helps him up and holds him by his shoulder. She escorts him towards the van with careful steps. We all glance up at him when he approaches without another word.

"Adam." Eli greets with some kind of smile. Adam thuds into his shoulder and doesn't greet him back or apologize. He opens the back compartment of the van and steps inside without another word. Clare sighs and looks up at Eli, who looks just as hopeless as she does.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" Tristan whispers. Maya and Cam look at him before they both shrug.

"I guess we just wait for him to wake up." Maya whispers in return. The phrase scares me. It's the implication of Adam being awake but not… awake. Like he needs something to wake him up. The thought gets more and more terrifying every time it crosses my mind. I lick my lips and look back up at the driver's seat while Owen climbs out of it.

"Are we good to go?" I ask him. Owen wipes his hand on his jersey before looking up at me. He nods. We have a wordless exchange. He knows I'm nervous and I know he is too, but neither of us speak. Connor gets into the passenger seat and I climb into the driver's. Owen's left the parking lot doors remote on the dash for me, and I hand it to Connor so that if anything bad happens at the door; it won't be my fault. I glance over my shoulder as the car starts up, and look back at the rest of our group who now sit behind me in the van, with eyes filled with hope and fear. An unnerving combination for the one behind the wheel. I turn back in my seat and stare out front. It's go time. I press my foot onto the accelerator with a certain amount of measured pressure and we reach our first door. Connor opens it to reveal a tunnel leading up to the surface, to where the second door awaits us. While I drive, I hear the soft murmurs of the group behind me, exchanging pointless conversation between one another to pass the time. It's not a very long tunnel, so I find myself in front of the second door quickly. The final door. After that and we're out in the open. Connor hasn't pressed the button yet, but all has fallen silent behind us. We stare at the rippled sheet of metal before us and wait for the courage to come. I look down at Connor's hand and watch as his thumb hovers over the last button. My hands are sweating and so is my neck. I catch movement at Connor's hand and notice his finger pushing dowards. My head snaps forward and I wait for that noise to fill the air. When it does, I get chills. Metal twists and pulls upward. The shadow cast over the van begins to deteriorate and the moonlight seeps into the parking lot.

I am still. Unmoving. My hands are on the wheel and my eyes have become alert. Once the noise is officialy absent, I look ahead. There is no sign of any of the infected. But the place sure has been wrecked. Cars are left abandoned and splashes of blood cover the parts of the pavement. There are strewn items of clothing scattered around and occasional spits of fire. I lick my lips and lean forward in my seat, trying to get a better look. But it's impossible if we don't proceed forward. I step on the pedal, and at last we begin to move into the open air. It's not too dark yet. The sky is a medium blue and the sun appears to be hidden while the moon sails over the buildings up ahead. I accelerate slowly forward, turning into the street. Now we are out of our hiding place. Now we are exposed. Now we are in serious danger and I control our fate. I press my foot down and proceed slowly and quietly, just as we planned.

"Easy." Comes a voice behind me. I don't let it shock me when I hear it because I know it's Eli, just trying to gain some control during this situation. I am careful and quiet. Nobody speaks a word behind me except Eli. I look up at my backseat mirror and see him clinging onto the back of my chair, hovering just behind my shoulder, watching my every move. I look back at the street and continue forward. The path is simple. I continue straight ahead for three blocks, then I take a left and continue down that road to where the police station is. A bead of sweat dribbles down my forehead, and I quickly wipe it with the back of my hand. I keep my focus on the road, and feel my heart beat starting to pick up as we near the corner I'm meant to turn on. My lower lip is shuddering. I've never been this nervous for a long time. And I have no time to conceal it either. My hands tug carefully on the wheel, and we make a left where I'm supposed to. And then I hear it. A thud and a crack. I step on the brakes and my eyes widen ahead. I've gasped, and it feels like I've been holding my breath the whole time as I start breathing heavily in a split second. I stare down the road, the same road that the police station is on, and I know I've done something bad. And I know it even more when a hand reaches up from the ground in front of us and comes down on the front of the van.

"Luke." Eli breathes. My eyes widen even more as the woman that I've hit pulls herself to her feet. Her other arm is broken, and barely attached. Her face, covered in blood. Her skin, covered in burn wounds from a fire. And she's staring right at me. She's infected, and I've hit her with our van. "Luke, stay calm." Eli instructs me. No. No, my hands are starting to shake. She's glaring at me. I can feel her cold green eyes on me and just picture her closing in on me. I see movement behind her and my eyes dart up to see more of them. More of the infected are hauling themselves out of nearby buildings, moving at their usual slow pace. I've alerted them.

"Oh God." I curse. I know I'm not supposed to but I do. I'm panicking. They're here and they know that we are too. And they know we're not one of them.

"Luke. Stay. Calm." Eli tells me through his teeth. I lick my lips, as my breathing picks up. My head starts snapping from one direction to the next, focusing on each dead face that turns right towards me. Eli grabs my shoulder. "Luke." He grunts through his teeth. They're going to kill us. They're going to rampage on us and kill us all. Starting with me. I panic and suddenly I'm screaming. "Luke!" Eli shouts. I slam my foot on the accelerator and floor the woman in front of us. I hear the other infected growl as race passed them. "Luke, no!" Eli yells, as he stumbles back into the van. The noise of the engine has alerted more of the infected. They rain down from the buildings, with windows scorched black from flames. I'm speeding down the road, running over anyone and anything in my way. Everyone behind me is shouting at me now.

"Luke, what are you doing?"

"Luke! Stop it!"

"No, dude, dude, dude! You're going to get us killed!"

"Stop! This wasn't part of the plan!"

"Luke, please!"

Luke this, Luke that. The only ones who aren't speaking up are Adam and Connor. I check the mirror briefly and see that Adam is staring at me with his wide blue eyes, but says nothing. Connor is plastered to his seat and I'm half-sure he's wet his pants. His eyes are steadily ahead and he's got one hand on the handle and one clutching the map.

"We're nearly there!" Connor shouts. I lick my lips and keep my eyes forward. I'm too fast for the infected now, I'm sure. I've got to be. They can't run. Can they? I see the police station coming up and I eye the parking lot to the side. I have no time to put my driving-school tactics to good use. Before we reach the sidewalk, I slam my foot on the brakes. With screams and shouts, we skid into the parking lot and suddenly the van is still. I thrash my seatbelt off.

"Run!" I order in a hoarse voice, kicking the door open. I stumble forward and hit the pavement hard. I'm in a daze for a brief moment before I feel hands in my back pulling me up. It's Dallas. He hauls me away with the rest of the gang, who're already rushing to the station. I look sideways for just a second and see the infected moving their way far down the street towards us. Owen slams the door open and we're in. He locks it after us and we barge through the buidling. We race up the stairs to the second floor. By the time I've reached it, they're all already crowded in one room. I storm in after them and slam the door shut, locking it with shaking hands. I'm breathing fast and staring at the door. Everyone else behind me is either catching their breath or sobbing. I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump. But when I turn it's only Dallas. He's grinning foolishly at me.

"Dude," he begins. I breathe out heavily and shake my head. "That was intense, man." He chuckles, patting my shoulder.

"Intense?" Eli repeats, louder. Oh, he's pissed. I hear him marching towards Dallas, who's hand leaves my shoulder. "We almost died!" He shouts. I cringe at his words, now feeling sick to my stomach. I stumble away from the door and grasp a nearby desk for support.

"He did the right thing!" Dallas protests for me. I slide to the floor, with my back pressed to the desk.

"What he did has endangered us!" Eli yells back. My legs are stinging and I'm not entirely sure why, so I look down and find that my knees are bleeding. I peel away some of the ripped fabric of my pants and look down at the broken flesh, oozing with crimson liquid. Suddenly, Eli stands in front of me, looking down at my wounds. He shakes his head. "Oh, great. Now he's bleeding. Now they're really going to locate us fast!" He runs his fingers through his hair and tugs. I look down at my wounds and I know he's right. But instead I lick my lips and shake my head.

"No, they won't." I say stubbornly.

"They will!" Eli retorts, along with a couple other voices to the side. I look down and feel my cheeks starting to redden. So I pull myself up to my feet and walk it off. I glide my way over to the weapons counter and pick up the first thing I see.

"Then we better be ready." I grumble, examining it. Within seconds Eli, Dallas, Owen, Cam, Adam and Maya are at my side in silent agreement, searching for their own weapons to pick and wield. I don't think any of us really know the difference between these guns. Or how to even use them. There are handguns and shotguns available for us, and that's about it if you don't include batons or stun-guns. We sit back and let the rest of them choose. I'm not sure how to load a gun, but Owen and Adam seem to be doing it right. I can understand how Owen would know, but how Adam knows is beyond me. "Hey." I grumble. Heads turn but I'm not facing any of them, I'm looking right at Adam. He feels my glare and meets it with his. I nod at him. "How'd you know how to do that?" I ask. I think this is the first time I've ever spoken to Adam. He stares at me long and hard before returning to the handgun he's holding. I blink, and remember that he hasn't spoken to anyone since his parents became infected. I remember that he still needs to 'wake up'.

I look back at the floor and say nothing else to him. Adam takes a seat and goes about his business, leaving my question unanswered. I feel a bitter sting at this and refuse to look at him for as long as I can. I have an urge to smack him in the face or beat him up. But I know my odds with the rest of these people, in a room full of weapons, won't exactly end up in my favor. I keep well away from that freak Torres and keep up conversation between Dallas and Owen. Two hours of this passes, and I'm growing tired. But I don't want to sleep. Well, it's not that I don't want to sleep, but more like I can't. I keep thinking of the infected woman I ran over. Her face. Those pale green eyes that a man probably once loved. Her memories, vanished. Just like Torres's parents. And worse, they probably can sense us here in the station. They can probably smell us, and now they're just waiting. I grit my teeth and shut my eyes. We've turned the lights off and the entire building is dark and quiet. Dead. I can't keep my eyes shut for long. I need to open them again and take a look for good measure. I clutch my weapon in my hand and stare straight at the door. Everything is far too quiet. I would pray but it doesn't feel the same without Becky, who's already asleep by my side. I look at her and wonder how she can sleep right now. I wonder how anyone is sleeping right now. It's impossible for me to even close my eyes for more than five seconds. I turn my head to the left and see Dallas with his back against the wall. His eyes are open, but he's not looking at me or saying anything. He's staring at nothing in particular. I guess he can't sleep either. Our emotional defensives have been wearing down lately, and I can't stand looking at him any longer because it reminds me that we're weak. And just as I'm about to look away, a streak of light flashes across his face.

My heart stops. He looks up at me with wide eyes. There is light on his face but we've supposedly turned off all the lights already. Then there's a bump, and a creak. Dallas and I glare at one another when we both realize in a split second that _we are not alone._ There's someone else in the station, and they're on the same floor as us. Maybe even the same hall. I slowly lean forward, making the least amount of noise possible as I take hold of my shotgun. I don't even know how to use it, how am I supposed to defend myself? Or anyone else for that matter? I carefully rock forward into a crouch position, gun out. I notice Dallas glowering at me as if he's warning me not to move. So I kneel still for a moment and listen. Closer. Whoever it is is coming closer and we can both hear it. I look up and watch the wall, because I know that on the other side, this person is standing right where I'm glaring at. The footsteps stop, and I stare at the wall for a moment, feeling as if whoever it is has sensed my gaze. I hold my breath for a couple seconds, before the footsteps continue. My eyes following the wall. My heart is beating faster, and faster, and faster. Then my gaze falls to the door, where light is creeping in from underneath. And then, feet reach it and stop, casting a shadow through the room. There's someone outside. There's someone or something outside the door just meters in front of me. And whoever it is, is just waiting. I glance at Dallas, who hasn't moved a muscle since I starting crouching, then I lick my lips and stare back at the door. I wonder if Dallas is scared. I bet he is. A hand falls on the doorknob and I jolt, nearly falling back, but I support myself before I do. The knob twists once, then a second time a little more violently. I'm breathing quickly now and sense some people around me starting to stir from their sleep. The footsteps further away and I hear somebody outside breathe out heavily. I know what's about to happen before I can even get my finger over the trigger. The person outside runs at the door, and Dallas launches away from the wall.

"Luke, move!" He shouts. In a slipt second, the lock breaks and the door slams open. A figure marches into, shadowed by the light behind him. I hear screams around me now as people awakened and see the man as well. He reeks of rotting flesh and blood, and I know he's infected. Just as I aim for his head, he moves, darting into the darkness of the room towards Dallas. Bye, Dallas. There's screaming all around me, especially from Becky and Tori. I scramble into the shadows away from the man, shouting for Dallas. But then the light flickers on and I back away into a corner. My eyes dart up for a second to see a man in a uniform. Not just any man. It's Officer Turner. And he looks perfectly normal despite the blood covering his front. The room falls silent as he frowns at us, breathing heavily. Officer Turner focuses his glare on me for a moment before sighing loudly.

"Do you know how difficult it was to lead them away from here? It took me over an hour just to round them all up by the gas staion and toss in a grenade." He snaps, folding his arms. I peer up at him in confusion as he turns back to the door and forces it shut. "And do you have any idea how risky that stunt you pulled out there was? Especially with a whole group of you." He states, gesturing to us with a flick of his hand. Most of us are still too shocked to speak up and respond to him. So he stands with his hands on his hips, and his eyes scan over each of our faces individually. When he spots Torres, he gives him a nod. "Adam, good to see you're still alive." He greets. He takes a step towards him and asks, "Where's Dave?" At this question I feel my face become pale. The man doesn't even know where his own son is. Adam stares up at him with that same blank expression and Officer Turner's eyes narrow in on him.

"Adam isn't speaking to anyone." Clare is the first to say. Officer Turner seems aggitated by this.

"And why not?" He asks. Clare glances at Adam before looking back down at her hands.

"His parents." She says. That on it's own is all the explaining Officer Turner needs, as his face falls in understanding. He nods slowly and looks at Connor, by Adam's side.

"Where's Dave?" He demands for a second time. Connor becomes uneasy under his gaze. By the expression on his face, Officer Turner quickly deduces that Connor has no idea about Dave's whereabouts. That none of us do. Officer Turner sighs and leans against a desk. He tosses his hat aside and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. We all stand there in silence for a moment for his son, Dave Turner. I except him to cry but his face remains seemingly neutral. Perhaps he doesn't want to believe in the possibility of Dave's death. Maybe he's still out there, surviving with the others. We may never know. Officer Turner collects himself and pushes off the desk. He moves to the weapons counter where he selects some items of his own. I watch him for a moment before he senses my gaze and speaks. "We can't stay here for long." He says. I smirk.

"We?" I repeat after him, peering at the back of his head. He loads a gun with a snap, and turns to face me. I keep my cool.

"Yes, we. Don't think for one second that you know best about the infection." He mutters. I give him a one-armed shrug and step forward.

"Try me." I taunt, grinning. I hear Dallas and Owen snicker behind me and my confidence grows. Officer Turner's eyes dart towards them for a second before he scowls at me again.

"Okay," he begins, with a trod in my direction, "If we move and take shelter somewhere more permanent, what should the shelter require?" He asks. The question's so simple and logical that I grin.

"Somewhere far away from the main city and underground."

"Wrong." He grunts before I can finish. My eyes narrow in on him.

"I wasn't done."

"Yeah, and you weren't right either." He snaps. I think I hear Eli laugh at this. My jaw tightens as my urge to pounce on Officer Turner and 'get rid of him' increases. He points his gun at me in a quick jabbing motion, which shocks me momentarily. "Shelter underground leaves you no way to escape if you're found. You won't be able to spot them if they're near you and you won't be able to attack either." He says. I'm about to interject but his voice overpowers mine and my cheeks start to redden. "Moving far away from the center of the city means it'll be impossible to stock up on supplies or network a system. So, theoretically, you've dug your own grave, kid." He grumbles, lowering his weapon. I stare into his focused eyes and he glowers right back into mine. I want to swing a table at him and leave him for the infected. It's now when I decide that I really don't like Officer Turner. I do not trust him and I do not plan on attempting to do so under any circumstances. He turns away and looks out to the rest of the group. My words have been choked right out of my throat so I refuse to look up in embarrassment. I cannot reply as Officer Turner goes on to speak. "What we need is a house. About two to three floors high with running water, eletricity and a rooftop if possible. It shouldn't be in the center of town but it shouldn't be far from it either. We need to get supplies like food, more weapons, first aid kits and more importantly; we need strong disinfectant. Lots of it."

"Why the disinfectant?" Maya asks so the man can breathe.

"To cover up for ourselves. The infected can't track something without tracks." He tells her. Officer Turner glances around the room for a moment, pausing particularily at the door. He looks back at us. "Right now we're very exposed. So we need to get moving soon." He states. I grit my teeth and look over my shoulder. Both Dallas and Owen don't seem to like him either. The new leading man in that pack has shut the three of us down entirely. I hear a shotgun load and I turn back to him sharply. Officer Turner sets the weapon down and drags a table to the center of the room. Eli rushes to assist him and they turn the table over onto its side, before pushing it up against the door after some muttering. Turner looks up at us with a sigh. "We move by daylight."

* * *

A/N:_ How am I doing so far?_


	3. To Base

**TO BASE **

Chapter Three: _Campbell E._

"Cam." I feel a shake at my shoulder. When my eyes flutter open, the floor seems unfocused. I feel another shake. "Cam?" Comes the voice. I jolt slightly and turn my head to face the intruder of my uneasy sleep. Maya smiles faintly, and I spot her hand on my arm.

"Hi." I return in a groggy voice. Maya looks away from me for a second, scanning the bright room. I gasp softly. _Bright_ room. It must be daylight already. Maya turns back to face me and her eyes meet mine.

"We're heading off soon." She says. I give her a nod, and grasp the table above me to pull me up into sitting position. I turn on the spot and rest my back against the table. Everybody's already awake, I can't believe I'm the last one. I rarely ever over-sleep. Even Dallas, Owen and Luke have bothered to rise earlier for today's special occasion. My throat tightens when I remind myself that we're actually going to have to go out in the open again. Yesterday nobody, not even Maya, noticed when I shut my eyes when Luke stepped on the pedal. I was more than terrified. And just when I thought the horror was over, come today, it may only worsen. "You alright?" Maya asks from my side. It's only now when I notice that she has moved by my side. I try to give her a smile, for her sake alone.

"Yeah, just a little nervous." I tell her honestly.

"Don't worry about it." She says. I wonder how she can possibly say something like that at a time like this. Her attitude never ceases to surprise me with each day that passes. Sure, I've thought about spending days with Maya before. Full days and nights. But this was not how I imagined it'd be. Trapped in a 24/7 nightmare.

"Of course I won't." I respond after some time. Maya grins again and looks up, awaiting orders from Officer Turner. I trust him more than almost anyone in this room. It's difficult to trust. I don't even know how to trust Maya yet. Sure, we get along very well and we've kissed. Once. But I need closure, and I think she does too. But perhaps it's not the right time at the moment.

"Saunders," comes a grunt above me. I look up just in time to see Dallas playfully kicking my knee. It hurts when he does and I give a small wince. My pain makes him grin. He kneels down beside me. "What do you think of the Officer?" He asks in a hushed whisper. I glance up at Officer Turner for a moment, who looks like he's trying to offer Becky a gun. Becky's being difficult again and refusing to do so much as look at it. I focus my gaze back on my hands and give Dallas a small shrug.

"I like him." I mutter. It's an understatement. He's a police Officer and I trust him. He knows what he's doing and I'm not getting any bad vibes from this man. My answer makes Dallas scowl. I've said the wrong thing. Again. What a surprise.

"You do?" He sneers now, leaning towards me. He grabs my collar, and almost immediately I feel Maya touch my arm. Dallas pulls me forward. "You like some stranger who barges in on our group and tries to get us to walk out and expose ourselves?" He asks. My words leave me and I end up gaping at him under his fist. He pushes me back against the table with a thud. I remain entirely still. "Do whatever you want, Saunders." He says, now in a much more controlled voice. He glares at me one final time before standing to his feet and walking off. When he is gone, I spy Officer Turner looking at me suspiciously from his corner. I know that he's seen Dallas's violence, but I can also tell that he isn't going to bring it up.

"I can't believe you let him treat you like that." Maya whispers in a scolding tone. I clear my throat and look away from Officer Turner, adjusting my jersey.

"Yeah, it's nothing, really. Just men's play." I tell her with a nervous laugh. I glance at her with a smile and see that she's still very unconvinced.

"More like boy's play." She snaps as I turn away. She's right. I know she is. I lick my lips and stare at the floor, before someone above us claps their hands. We both glance up to see Officer Turner stroll to the center of the room.

"So, guys," he begins in a steady tone, "Are we ready for this?" He asks. I remain silent and wait for everyone else to reply. Turner's gaze pans around the room briefly and several nod and murmur in agreement. We all know that we have to move away from here. It's not secure. But none of us want to be exposed again. Yesterday night was close enough already. I stand to my feet and help Maya onto hers. When I look up I see that Turner's reached for the door. A shudder runs through me when he opens it. It's time. Everything that happens today; every step, every command, every deduction. It's crucial. Turner steps out into the hall, and at first, nobody follows. But he doesn't wait for us to make up our mind. He moves down the hall in his heavy boots without any hesitation whatsoever. We remain in the room awkwardly swaying and eyeing one another, seeing who will be the first to make the bold decision to follow. I hear a sigh in the corner and then movement. I look up to see Adam moving passed Connor and Eli fearlessly with his weapon hauled over his shoulder. He doesn't acknowledge the rest of us as he disappears out the door and into the hall. I know he must believe that he has nothing left to lose. As his footsteps depart the doorway, everybody comes to life all of a sudden. We follow after him and I remember to keep Maya close. The trip downstairs doesn't frighten me as much as I thought it would. The worst part is reaching the end of the staircase to see that the back door is open, and Turner and some of the others are out in the open already. How they've managed this so quickly puzzles me but I'm not one to dwell on something like that at a time like this. I hesitate to step out into the broad sunlight but my feet move before I can decide. Out of fear, I hold my breath.

"Jesus, this place is a wreck." I hear Owen say to Dallas from up ahead. I look up and see the destruction around me. The buildings are stained with soot, blood and other questionable substances. Windows are broken and there are both scratch and bullet marks on several surfaces. All cars have been abandoned or destroyed. There is no sign of life wherever I turn. I keep my gaze forward on Officer Turner, who's leading us to a police van. It looks heavy duty, but most of it's windows have been smashed and it looks like there's blood dribbling down from the corner. I breathe out again as Turner opens the back compartment of the van. He swings the door open and immediately, a body falls out. Everybody backs away, cursing and screaming.

"Shut up! He's dead!" Officer Turner snaps, warning us with wide eyes fixed in a glare. We fall silent and he kicks the man aside. He's bleeding heavily at his head and his face is pale. His eyes are open but he's obviously been dead for a long time. I see movement to my side and look over to catch Becky's eyes flickering as she starts to lose balance. When she falls back she tumbles onto Clare and Tori, who try their best to push her back up. Becky blinks herself back to consciousness and stumbles against Luke, who finally holds her steady. Turner rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Get in." He orders. Turner swerves around the side of the van to the driver's seat, ready to take us through the streets. I panic for a moment, watching everyone get into the back compartment of the van. I've lost sight of Maya. I glance around quickly only to find that she's at my side. I sigh in relief and she giggles at me.

"Come on." I breathe, flushing a faded pink color. I tug her arm and pull her towards the van carefully. We usher inside and shut the door behind us.

"Worried, were you?" Maya asks as everybody settles down. I look at her, and for a moment I'm speechless, but then I find it in me to grin.

"A little." I respond softly. Maya smiles and I feel a stir inside my chest. I want to lean in and kiss her again, but an engine interrupts us. The van has started, and the trip has begun. I'm restless from last night, so I decide to sit back and try to relax. I don't ever look out the window. I refuse to. I keep thinking that if I look out the window I'm going to stare into the face of one of the infected. I can't even picture what that would look like, or how it feels to look someone right in the face as they slowly close in to infect you as well. I feel bad for Luke, Connor and Eli, who had to stare at that infected woman last night. I didn't get to see her, but I occasionally wonder what set Luke off. Luke's hardly ever scared. When he panicked yesterday I thought he'd led us all to our death. Something about that woman must have terrified him. Was it her appearance? Or maybe just the fact that she was infected? Or maybe he was scared that he'd be the reason we all die? I guess I'll never be sure. I roll my head to the side and try to get a better look passed everyone's shoulders, but I can't. The sun is blazing hot and is causing a glare over the windscreen.

"Hey," Maya says. I turn to her quickly, partially frightened. "Try and relax."

"Try and _relax?"_ I repeat after her. I look away slowly and think over her words. It's impossible to relax at a time like this. Ever, in fact. No matter how hard I try I just can't do it. I sit back against the side of the van as we weave through the streets. I sigh heavily and turn back to Maya, who seems to be waiting for me to finally let go. But the look in her eyes right now shows me that she's realized I genuinely can't. "I'm sorry." I whisper. She looks at me in confusion, but soon realizes that I'm apologizing for being unable to calm myself. Her expression melts back to sympathy and she grabs hold of my arm. I immediately link mine with hers and pull her a little closer.

"Don't be sorry." She says. I lick my lips and shake my head to protest. "Cam. Stop apologizing for things you shouldn't." She grumbles, now sounding slightly annoyed. I understand. If I was her, or anyone else, I'd be annoyed by me too. I duck my head down low and think of something to say. Something that might soothe us both. Something that might make us smile. But I've got nothing worthy of achieving any of that. When I try to speak, the car goes over a sudden bump. I, like the rest of us, am alerted by this and glance up for a moment. I see Becky quickly consulting Luke, who's still engaged in conversation with Dallas and Owen. And then Eli, who grabs Clare's hand before she can complain or speak. We slow to a halt. It's only now when a thick stench flows in through the cracked windows and deposits itself in the back of the van. The smell of blood and rotting flesh fills my lungs when I breathe in quickly. I'm the first to start coughing, but the others soon follow.

"What _is_ that?" Eli croaks, looking up at the driver's seat. Turner's gaze is panning around the area. He looks wired and alert. Murderous to an extent. But it soon starts to fade into confusion. I hear a soft _'clang'_ beneath me and I jump, staring down at the floor of the car between my legs. I hear it a second time, now a little further down towards Tristan. Everyone's watching the floor now and the stench grows. I pull my jersey over my nose and try and block out the smell but it's practically impossible.

"Officer Turner," I end up blurting out. "What's going on?" I ask, as more coughing surrounds me. When I look up, I see that Turner's eyes are starting to widen as he stares at the steering wheel. Owen looks like he's about the throw up.

"Yeah, it smells like something just died, man!" Dallas gasps. Turner looks up from the steering wheel as if he's been stabbed in the neck. The _'clang'_ turns into a _'bang'_ now at the door. I jump again, dropping the jersey from my face. Officer Turner's hands scatter back to the gearbox.

"That's because something did!" He shouts suddenly, forcing the gear back into drive. As he does this, the door, just a few feet away from me, wrenches open. The man who has opened the door glowers inwards, _infected. _We only get a brief glimpse of him before Turner steps on the accelerator. None of us have time to scream. Except one. Because just as the van's engine revs up, the infected man's hand comes down on the ankle of miss Becky Baker. And what happens next occurs over a matter of seconds.

The car lurches forward and Becky slides out of the door. Everyone's screaming for her but nobody moves in fear of tipping out onto the pavement along with her. Before Becky can hit the pavement, her hands manage to come down on the side of the door and she keeps herself in tact with us. She is literally clinging on for her life and crying hysterically as the infected man is dragged on the pavement behind our van, refusing to let go of her ankle.

"Luke!" She screams. Her nails slip over the slide of the door briefly before she gets a firmer second hold. I look up at Luke and he's reacted just as I have. He's frozen, breathing fast, glaring at her with wide eyes and trying to speak but coming up with nothing. "Help me! What are you doing? HELP ME!" She screeches in a voice that sends chills down my spine. Luke snaps out of his trance and moves forward, going to help her. The infected man lets out a growl, and swings an arm up, grabbing the back of Becky's dress. She screams louder as the hand on her ankle moves to her waist and that's when we all realize that the infected man is not targeting Becky. He's targeting all of us. And he's not trying to get Becky to fall. He's trying to _climb_ her. Luke sees this and stumbles back, scrambling to the front of the van like several others. Becky's eyes widen when she gets a quick glimpse of this. "No! Luke! What on Earth are you doing? Help me, Luke!" She cries. I stay put when everyone begins to move. Those who retreat have repulsed me. I know that their theory is that if Becky lets go, we're all saved. I want to lunge forward and tug Becky back to safety, but my muscles aren't moving. I can't even talk. I don't even think I'm breathing right now. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder that shoves me back against the side of the van. When I look up, I see that my attacker is Adam. He's pushing everyone in his way aside, trying to keep his balance as he makes his way down the speeding van.

"Adam, what are you doing?" Clare is the first to ask. Adam finally stumbles to where the doors are and with his shaky hands he pulls out his loaded handgun.

"Adam!" I hear voices all around me but they don't compare to how loud Becky's screams of terror are. I'm zoning out again and staring at Adam. He's insane. He's insane and I think he knows. Adam turns on the spot to face the road, weapon out. Becky's eyes dart up for just a second, and when she sees the gun and feels the infected man place his rotting hand on her shoulder she starts screaming and squirming even louder, kicking and sobbing. My heart is racing as Adam appears to be aiming for the man's head. But he's so close to Becky that Adam might miss and hit her instead. And I'm sure he's well aware of this.

"Don't!" Luke keeps telling him, over and over. But Adam is mouthing a countdown and I know there's no stopping him from what he's about to do. Luke starts shaking his head, and I turn my gaze back to the infected man. He's trying to keep his hold on her, and Becky's flesh has gone pinkish-red from the pressure of his grasp. The man's toes and knees are being sawed off by the pavement, and his groggy eyes are trying to keep focus. And then, there's the loudest noise I've heard in awhile. Adam has pulled the trigger. My heart stops and my eyes widen. And, as if life had continued in slow motion, the bullet penetrates the infected man's shoulder and his grip on Becky releases. His hands slip off as he gurgles and flies back, smacking onto the pavement hard. Becky swings on the door, still trying to keep her grasp. She's still screaming and crying just the same a before, it's as if she still thinks the man is attached to her. Adam searches for a better grip and ends up grabbing the jagged opening of a window. He winces and leans out of the van, using his free hand to reach out to Becky. She's still hysterical. She's barely even paying any attention to him. She keeps saying 'no' every time the side of his hand brushes her arm. When I look up at Adam, I see his lips moving, but I can't hear what he's saying.

"No!" Becky shouts, shaking her head when Adam touches her shoulder. "No!' She screams again. Then Adam speaks his first words to her.

"Trust me!" He bellows. It shocks me back to reality, and those around me as well. Adam Torres, the silent, tortured soul has finally raised his voice. But I can't believe he wasted his first words to save someone as horrible as _her._ His face is dark with some sort of pain, and I look up at his hand clutching the opening at the broken window. There is blood draining down from his fingers and it makes me cringe. When I look back at him I see that Becky has grabbed his shoulder with one hand and is still sobbing uncontrollably even as Adam tries pulling her in. "Cam!" He calls. I blink. That's my name. I find myself moving towards him mindlessly. "Doors." He grunts, straining himself to help Becky. I wait by the side and watch like a helpless, useless child. Once he has hauled the two of them back into the vehicle, my hands scramble anxiously for the door. I slam them shut and fall back against the side of the van, looking up alertly. Everyone is staring at Adam. The stunt he just pulled is something none of us were prepared to do. He could've slipped and fallen. He could've missed and shot Becky. But he didn't. And I can see hatred pouring out of the creases in Luke's face as he moves down the van. "Are you alright?" Adam asks, out of breath as he touches Becky's shoulder. She looks up to reply but Luke arrives.

"Get your hands off my sister, you freak!" He spits. He grabs Adam by his shirt and shoves him into the corner of the van before kneeling by Becky. Luke cups Becky's face and tilts her gaze up to meet his. "Becks, are you okay?" He asks softly. Becky, with tears streaming down her face and violently trembling hands, looks up at him and shakes her head. "It's alright. I've got you." He pulls her face up into his shoulder and holds her tightly. Becky's arms wrap around him as she cries into him, sobbing hard. Luke looks up at Adam, glowering at him dangerously. Adam sits against the van staring at him. His eyes are watering with tears. He's not crying because of the Bakers, he's crying because of the wounded hand he now clutches to his chest. I look up at the cracked window and see sharp shards of glass, that now freshly glisten with Adam's blood. When I look back at him, the van starts to slow to a halt. Adam wipes his very few tears away with the back of his hand, pretending as if they never fell in the first place.

Luke comforts Becky sweetly. But he is a coward. We all are. Every last one of us except for Adam, who now sits back and lets Luke take full credit for his actions. I want to speak up for Adam but I can't. If I could, I'd tell both Luke and Becky that they should be thanking him. That they both owe him their lives for the stunt he pulled. But I stay silent. And Becky tells her brother how thankful she is of him.

"Guys," Comes an out of breath voice. I glance up in shock and see Officer Turner looking back at us. He's covered in a layer of sweat and is breathing heavily. "Connor and I have found a place. We need to get out and move fast." He orders. Feeling as if it's my duty to do so, I thrust open the door and step out onto the streets. Again, I help Maya down and see that she looks terribly shaken up from the car ride. I hold her by her shoulders, ready to comfort her, but then I look up and see Turner already rushing up the driveway. He peers through the window of a house before getting ready to barge in. I look back at Maya, who's still waiting for me to speak. Instead, I move forward and kiss her forehead. When I look back down at her she's smiling feebly.

"Come on." I mutter, taking her by her arm. I lead Maya towards the house we've chosen, and see that Turner's already filing everyone inside. Becky's in Luke's arms, clinging onto him. I'm not sure if she's unconscious, but she surely isn't talking. Adam walks with Eli, Connor and Clare, who both look very concerned about the state of his right hand. I sigh and look away, quickly following everyone in the house. It's an average family home, I guess. Maybe a little more expensive. Once I'm in I spot a staircase, which is definitely what Turner wanted us to have. Turner locks the door behinds us and quickly removes his jacket.

"Alright!" He begins loudly. We turn to him, as if we're standing to attention. He scans over the room briefly, then glances at the stairs. "You guys," He gestures to me, Maya, Dallas, Eli and Tori. "Need to go upstairs and check to see if it's entirely safe. Don't worry, I'll go with you." He says. I blink at him, but he turns to give orders to the others. "You guys stay down here and try to bar the place up, alright?" He asks. I see confusion on their faces but they nod anyway. Turner looks back at the five of us. "Okay, weapons at the ready." He says. I'm very worried about his proposal to go upstairs and check if we find anyone infected. It's not something I want to do. At all. My trust for him begins to falter the second he makes it to the stairs. I find a shotgun, which I'm relatively familiar with after Officer Turner demonstrated how to use them last night. It's heavy, and I'm sure it's nearly as tall as I am. Nevertheless, I can't let the Officer down so I follow him up the carpeted steps and onto the second floor. Maya is behind me, just as I need her to be. I can't have her getting hurt. Once we reach the hall, I see several doors, and then a second floor that's so bright it leaves a whole ray of sunshine pouring down the stairs. A rooftop; bonus point. Officer Turner looks back at us.

"Okay, we're going to pair up and check each room, alright? If you see anything, shoot." He orders. Dallas reluctantly loads his gun just as Turner taught us, and barges into a room. Turner sighs and taps Eli on the shoulder. "You're with that one." He grumbles, even if he knows Dallas's name. Eli hesitates for a moment before going in after him. Turner looks at Tori, sees her shaking, and immediately knows he has no choice but to accompany her. "You two will be fine on your own, right?" He asks, referring to Maya and I. The two of us glance at one another before nodding. Turner bows in return, and clutches his handgun. I look up at Tori, who doesn't look very sure about barging into a room after Officer Turner. But the second he shoves the door open, she jumps and finds herself following after him. I look at Maya, just as Dallas and Eli leave their room and enter a second one.

"You ready?" I ask. But by the time I'm done speaking, Maya has already pushed passed me and is making her way to another door. I scramble to get a better grip on my shotgun and race after her. She opens the door and I hear myself muttering in panic under my breath. She only grins, stepping into the first room. It looks like a guest bedroom. There's nothing abnormal about it except for the open window at the front. The pastel green bed sheets have faded under the sunlight, and now look as if they might be ancient. "Looks fine to me." I say. When I'm about to turn and leave, I spot something on the wall. It doesn't startle me and it doesn't startle Maya either. In fact, we loosen our grips on our weapons and walk forward to examine it. They're only picture frames. Expensive gold-colored ones, and the occasional beautiful, smooth wood. Maya and I stand there beside one another and look up at them. At the smiling family in each frame.

"They look so happy." Maya whispers. My gaze falls on a handful of children, cuddled against someone who I assume is their father, who is smiling at the camera. They look wealthy. I can tell by the sweaters they wear and the jewelry this man's wife has on. Maya's right. They do look happy. My heart sinks when I see a photo of an infant in his mother's arms.

"I bet they loved each other a lot." I say. I feel Maya looking at me after I've said this. She can probably see the sudden sadness I have on my face, and I'm sure she feels it to. I reach down with my spare hand, and try my best to locate Maya's, but I've found her wrist instead. I trail down her skin with my fingers before linking them through hers. Warmth shoots up my arm and into my chest when she holds me in return. We stand and stare at the faces of a young, happy family. I wonder what their names were. The food they liked to eat. Their favorite movies. Their friendships. Their grades. The times they fought, the times they comforted one another. What their futures could've lead to. All of this brushes by my thoughts in a matter of seconds. Each face is filled with such joy, except one. In fact, it isn't a happy face at all. It's a glare. An angry, groggy, glare. And it's eyes are focused on me.

Then I realize it's not part of the picture. I blink once and realize it's a reflection of someone behind me. Someone infected. Targeting the both of us. I gasp softly and let go of Maya's hand.

"Maya, go!" I bellow, shoving her out of the way as I turn around and face the deranged, peeling woman who emerges from the closet. I swing my shotgun up and see that the infected woman can run. Maya screams and my finger falls over the trigger. I pull on it just as the woman reaches us. The force of the gunshot sends me hurling back against the picture frames. The woman lets out a gurgling noise and stumbles backwards, falling to the floor, smacking her head on the wall on her way down. I swallow hard and suddenly I'm breathing quickly, staring at the woman as she glares back at me with those dead eyes and shivering lips. Her hands are twitching and there is a gurgle in her throat.

"Cam!" Maya yells from behind me. I stare at the woman and feel like I'm going to throw up. When her twitching stops, and she seems to sink to the ground, I begin to lose my balance. She has black matted hair and the deterioration of her flesh is sickening. I've shot her square in the chest, leaving her blasted wounds open, and her pearl necklace shattered all over the floor. I recognize her from the photos and pin-point her as the loving, caring wealthy mother. "Cam." Maya whispers. She's crying. I've never heard or seen Maya cry before and I never want to. So I drop the gun and find myself approaching the woman. "Cam! Cam, what are you doing?" Maya shouts at me. I'm panicking, that's what I'm doing. Blood and other substances cover me as I grab the small, frail woman and haul her into my arms. Maya is screaming from behind me as I pull the woman up and her weight falls against my chest and shoulder. I'm being drenched in something and it's safe to assume that it's blood. I haul the woman forward towards the window and press her to the ledge, pulling up. Suddenly, Maya's screaming has stopped and she's rushed to my side, shoving the woman with me. Breathing heavily, we heave the woman onto the ledge. As I do this, my eyes are distracted by something in the closet the woman emerged from. She's written something on the inside, in what I think is blood. I peer at it and see that it reads 'the undead never die'.

My heart skips for a second. When I turn back to the woman, who is half-dangling out of the window by now, her head rolls forward and she smirks at me. My eyes widen as her body seemingly comes back to life. Before she can lunge, Maya fearlessly smacks the woman right in the forehead. It's the final push we need, and the gurgling woman falls to the pavement below. I watch as she hits the ground, but Maya has already darted away from the window quickly. I hear a snap of bones but the infected woman continues to slowly shift against the gravel, gasping.

"What's happening? What's going on?" Comes Turner's voice, pulling me away from the window. I turn back to the door and see that our other companions have made it to our room in a sweat.

"One of them was in here." Maya breathes. When I look at her I feel my insides shatter. She appears terrified and is also covered in the woman's blood. She looks like she is about to burst out in tears. But I'm no better. My hands are shaking and I'm breathing hard.

"Turner!" It comes out as desperate shout, and shocks everyone so that they stare at me. I breathe in quickly and point to the open closet. "What does that mean?" I yell at him, sounding enraged by fear. They look at it, and their eye narrow in on the text.

"The undead never die." Turner mouths as he reads it. My arm falls back to my side.

"What does that mean?" I bellow at him. He looks at me now. And instead of being understanding, he looks angry with me. "What does it mean, huh? That – that we can't defeat them? That we can never win? Huh? Is that what that means?" I cry, desperate for answers. His jaw tightens and he glares at me, staring me down. Turner holds his place, while the rest of us await for him to speak. He sighs, and looks at the state of me. I notice him doing this and so I decide to do the same. I look down at myself and see the blood soaked into my clothes.

"It means we need to secure this place. Now." He grumbles finally. I shakily look up at Maya, who's biting her bottom lip and folding her arms to hide her trembling hands. But I can see them and she's not fooling me. Turner moves to the side and opens another door within the room. He disappears in it for a moment before reappearing and gesturing to both Maya and I. "That's a bathroom. I want you both to wash that blood off right now before anyone else can track us. We'll search the rest of the house." He states, pacing between us. He vanishes between Dallas, Eli and Tori, who are staring at us with wide eyes. I'm watching the floor, unable to move, petrified. Now I know how Luke felt after he ran over that infected woman. Only I feel worse. I had my hands on her everything. I'm covered in her blood. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my wrist. I don't need to look up and see who it is because I know it's Maya. She pulls me towards the bathroom and pushes me inside. When she goes to shut the door, I rush to the shower and slam the lever up. I'm still breathing hard and I know Maya is too. I climb into the bathtub and the water from above hits me like a rainstorm. Maya follows me quickly and stands under it with me. We don't care about the anxiety we used to feel because at last we are alone again. I rip my hockey jersey off and toss it to the end of the tub, and Maya does the same with her jacket and glasses. We both ignore one another and try to wash the blood off of our bodies. Obviously I'm not taking off any more clothes in front of her, and she isn't either, but neither of us really care. We desperately let the blood drain, shaking and whimpering. I assume we're both remembering the face of that woman. The one on the pavement below right now.

"Cam." Maya mutters. I ignore her and try to scrub more blood of my shirt frantically. But Maya's hands come down on my wrists. "Cam!" She repeats louder. I stop and look up at her, breathing heavily still. We stare at one another as the water dribbles down our faces. I watch her carefully and see that the shower has hidden her tears well. For once, I do not panic. Instead I reach forward and place a clean hand to her jaw before I lean forward, and my lips meet hers. I kiss her cautiously and delicately, keeping my hold on her cheek soft. When I pull away I look down into her eyes and let her stare at me for a moment. Her arms move around my neck and she presses her head to my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her waist and hug her back. My heart is very slowly returning to its normal pattern, but I know it will take time. We clutch onto each other under the warmth of the shower, as the blood runs from our clothes and down the drain. Even with an incident as horrible as the one we just experienced, I'm glad that at least it has brought us closer together. I shut my eyes. And as Maya told me earlier, I find it in me to relax at last.


	4. Better Side

**BETTER SIDE**

Chapter Four: _Owen M._

We've spent the whole day searching this place for things that could be seen as useful, but there isn't much. Turner thinks that others already broke into this house and took most of the supplies. We have just about enough food for three days, for all of us, if it were to be equally shared. So we've got to find another way to locate an area where we can stock up on supplies. I like the idea of busting out of here and falling right into danger. I get a rush every time we see someone infected. And, besides, who doesn't laugh when Becky faints? I feel like I'm the only one here who's trying to be Mr. Brightside. I kick my feet up onto Clare's lap and she immediately pushes me off, glowering at me like I've attacked her. I roll my head back and snicker to myself as she dusts herself off. She stands abruptly, folds her arms, and starts to walk away.

"Oh, don't be like that, Edwards!" I chuckle. She sits firmly on her own in a corner and I look away, still laughing softly on the couch. I glance sideways at Dallas, who has his knuckles to his lips, preventing himself from looking as if he's laughing as well. I grin at him and turn back to the ceiling. "Whatever, man. Where's Tris?" I ask absently. There is a pause before Dallas responds.

"I don't know. Upstairs, I guess." He sighs. I blink up at the ceiling and think for a moment. The dude's got to be lonely. Tristan, that is. He's been holding up pretty well for the past few days but he's been out of my sight ever since we found this new place earlier today. I hear mutter behind me and frown. I pull myself up onto my elbows and look over my shoulder to see Becky and Luke sitting on the floor with their legs crossed. Becky's eyes are shut and she has her hands clasped together. Luke does too, but he's staring at the floor while Becky prays. He catches my stare and looks up at me. His murmuring is incoherent. I don't think he's even trying to pray. Becky seems very into it, though. She takes a deep breath, and I only catch her last words.

"Amen." She breathes, opening her eyes. Luke looks back at her hurriedly just as she starts to smile. He smiles in return, and lets Becky give him a warm embrace. I roll my eyes and turn away to pull myself up from the couch.

"You're all boring." I snap, messing up my hair with a jerk of my hand. I pull it back and out of my eyes.

"Boring?" Tori repeats after me. I bat my eyelashes and nod. "Our lives are endangered! What do you want from us? To throw a party about it?" She spits in return with narrowing eyes. I sit up straight, and my lips curl into a smirk. She starts to shake her head just as I stand to my feet. "Owen, no."

"Tori! Yes!" I whisper back, excited. Tori looks away from me bitterly as I stride to the center of the room. I extend my arms out. "We'll throw a party!" I announce. I hear groans all around and soft curses.

"Are you an idiot?" Eli grumbles, appearing from the staircase.

"Apparently." Turner mutters from the open kitchen counter. I gape at them.

"What? Why not? It's better than hours of silence, don't you think?" I ask. Dallas snorts with laughter from the ground, shaking his head at me. I grin and look up at Turner, who places a can of soup down on the counter in a steady manner.

"You really want to get us all killed, don't you?" He asks in a voice that is so calm and measured that I feel threatened by him. The room grows strangely quiet.

"No?" I respond unsurely. I shrug and approach the counter very carefully. "I just think that we need to stop taking things so seriously and – "

"Stop taking things seriously?" Maya butts in before I can finish. I sigh dramatically and turn to her. Maya glares at me with such anger that I feel a chill down my back. She grabs Cam's arm and hauls herself to her feet, almost dragging him down to the floor in the process. I've never seen Maya violent before, well, except for that time she threw that thing at my head. She stands and glowers. "Okay, Owen. Cam, Becky and I almost got eaten alive today. So what part of this isn't serious yet?" She asks, but I know she doesn't intend for me to reply. Because when I open my mouth she speaks before me. "Adam watched his parents get infected, Owen. He doesn't know where Drew is. And none of us know whether or not our families or friends are alive. We don't know when and if we're ever going to see them again! Fiona, Imogen, Zig – everyone! They're gone and they're not coming back!" She raises her voice and I feel her words hit me hard, but I stand my ground. I see Tori flinch at Zig's name, and suddenly she scrambles to get back on her feet. She knocks passed Maya, who sighs heavily, and rushes for the staircase. "Tor..." Maya quickly follows her up. Just when I turn and think the argument is over, Eli makes a second appearance in front of me. I look around at everyone nervously and see that even Dallas's smile is nonexistent as of now. But I keep mine going, and raise my eyebrows at Eli.

"What's up, man?" I ask casually, with a shrug. This sets him off.

"What about you, Owen?" He asks quickly, "Where's your family? Are they alive? And what about Tristan? What happens if they take him?" He breathes. I feel my curved lips falter at his questions. He's prodding a little too deep right now and I don't like it. I tighten my jaw and keep my eyes locked on him. My muscles ache to be used but right now all I can manage is a glare in his direction. Eli's gaze falls to the ground. "Not smiling so much now, are you, Owen?" He asks, now in a quieter voice. My face turns into a dark scowl, and I push away from where I'm standing. I realize that I probably look as if I've been defeated. And I can't let that happen. Especially not by him. The comment about my family and Tristan has angered me more than anything. But I try my best to force a smirk, and a small chuckle. Eli's face darkens at my surprise reaction.

"Whatever, Goldsworthy. You're clearly overreacting." I grunt, shaking my head. Eli's eyes widen.

"Overreacting?" He exclaims loudly. I turn to the staircase, and see Clare stand to pull Eli back when he approaches me.

"Yeah, Elijah. Do you have anything to add to that or are you just going to be a parrot for the rest of your life? Besides, tranny-Torres can handle herself." I grumble nonchalantly. I hear Clare gasp and lunge forward, but this time Eli is the one who holds her back.

"Owen Milligan, I swear – "

"Oh, please, don't swear, Clare!" I whimper sarcastically, jumping up the first step on the staircase. I look back at her and see that she, along with many others, are appalled by my response. My face finally falls slightly. "Now, I don't know about you guys, but I'm bored. So I'm going upstairs to sleep it off." I turn away from them and let my smile disappear. I begin to hop up the stairs and raise a hand back to them. "Ta-ta, my friends, it's been real!" I call on my way up. I pick up my pace until I reach the second floor. Now I'm allowed to panic. I open the first door and notice it's empty. I shut it again and look at it. It's a very plain type of door, and the smooth, white-painted wood around the handle looks as if it's been scratched at. I turn down the hall, and use a set of skills that nobody knows I have. I walk down the hall casually and examine each door as I pass, and then, I've found what I'm looking for. I stand in front of a similar white door, with glitter across it horizontally, and pink frills and feathers decorated around some girl's name. I sigh and know I've found the room I'm looking for. I casually put my hand on the knob and open it up. And just as I expected, Tristan sits at the edge of a pretty purple bed in the center of the room. He doesn't turn to look at me, because he knows the sound of my footsteps. With another glance down the hall to see if anyone's watching, I slide through the door and shut it behind me. Only now can I smile, and look back at him.

"Good evening, princess." I greet. I see Tristan's face light up for a brief moment. But when he decides to view me it quickly fades to distrust and disappointment. My smile drops. I know why he's looking at me like that. I know I deserve it.

"Please don't call me that." He grumbles at last. I sigh and lean back against the wall with my arms folded. With my lips pursed, I focus my gaze on him. I try and think of something to say that will allow him to genuinely smile at me.

"Listen, Tris." I begin. But all he does is roll his eyes and shoot a glare my way.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we talking now? Is that what we're doing?" He asks. I groan in irritation and push myself off the wall. Tristan beats me to another sentence. "Are we really back to fun nicknames and conversations? Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, with sarcasm and venom dripping from every syllable. I unfold my arms and look at him.

"Come on, Tris, don't be like that."

"Don't be like what? Gay?" He asks, raising his voice. Now I really glare at him.

"No! That wasn't what I was going to say! You just – "

"Because I swear that you've been yelling slurs at me and bullying every LGBT kid you see! I had no idea we were back to the fun nicknames and conversations, Owen! This is brand new information to me!"

"Okay, okay, okay! I get your point!" I bellow over him. Tristan falls silent and turns his gaze away from me. Arms folded, eyes down; shutting me out. I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed next to him, but he moves away with a jolt and sits in an armchair. "What? I – are you serious?" I ask with narrowing eyes. Tristan looks at me again.

"Are _you_ serious?" He spits. I lean forward but he cuts past me again. "You and your hockey team are making life hell for everybody, Owen. I heard you arguing with Clare downstairs, too." He leans towards me suddenly. "Did you know Adam's just in the room next to me? He heard you, Owen! He heard you call him that!" He scolds, now speaking in a quieter voice. I shake my head, rolling my eyes at him. It's the only response I can think of. Tristan adjusts himself in his seat. "And you know Adam's guy. We've been over this, Owen. We've talked about this."

"Yeah, I know, but – "

"If you know then why are you doing this to him?" Tristan pleads suddenly. The desperation in his voice alerts me immediately, so I turn my gaze back to him. His eyes are watery and his cheeks and ears are red. I've upset him again, haven't I? "Why are you doing this to _me?"_ He whispers. Yep, I've hurt him. I look at his face from the small distance between us and feel mine begin to darken with color. I look at the floor, pained and bitter as Tristan speaks again. "Owen, we've been over this a thousand times. I thought you understood. You know there's nothing wrong with being gay. It's just a preference. And, as for Adam… you know his brain doesn't match his body. It's not his fault. He can't help who he is. His life will always be a struggle on it's own and you're making it worse. For all of us." He tells me softly, now sounding broken. I don't want to look up at his face when I hear a huff. I don't want to see him cry. I hate it when people cry. It's stupid and pointless and a waste of water and I hate it. I hear him lean forward in his armchair now. "Dallas, and the Bakers… Owen, they don't understand what you do. You can't keep pretending you don't. I know you can help. I know you care."

"I don't care." I snap quickly.

"You do." Tristan's voice is soft and light now, but it still sounds like begging to me. And that stings. I usually enjoy it when people beg but not when it's him. Not when it's Tris.

"Why don't you do it then? Why don't you talk to them about it?" I ask him sourly. I feel his glare intensify.

"Do you think they'll listen to me? Honestly, Owen? What makes you think they'll give me the time of day? Ever?" He asks me. I continue to keep my gaze on the floor and start to fidget with my hands. Tristan moves forward again in his seat. "Owen, you can change things. And you can start with me. And Adam." At the last sentence, I finally look up at him, angry.

"No." I grunt immediatley. "Not Adam. That's going too far." I tell him.

"You're going to far! Dave told me what happened when Adam first moved here. You threw him through a freaking glass door, you idiot!" He snaps. I glower at him, feeling my muscles tighten.

"He was in the wrong bathroom."

"He was in the right bathroom!" He shouts over me again, enraged at my retort. "Owen, you know this hatred isn't you! You know it! You and I both know that the real you understands! You do remember the real you, right?" He asks. The question is like a bullet to the chest and I finally rest my gaze on his eyes. Tristan sighs, as if he's releasing part of his frustration. Then he looks at me again. "The Owen who ditched class to help me rehearse my lines alone in the music room. The gay musical." He begins quietly. I look around alertly, scared if anyone's eavesdropping or creeping in. I turn back to him.

"Tris…"

"The Owen who helped me deal with my rejection with both Adam and Cam." He continues. I sigh and rub my face in my hands. "The Owen who I've been shouting at for the passed year trying to make him understand the different types of people in life. The Owen who is understanding. The Owen who knows the truth." He leans forward again and I feel his eyes on me, so I sink my face and hands into my lap. "The Owen who cares." He says again.

"I don't care!" I repeat, louder.

"You do!" The exchange is endless and pointless. We talk in circles. I look up from my hands to view his expression. "If this is the last day of our lives – "

"Well, it's not!"

"We can die at any second, Owen!" He stands to his feet suddenly, startling me. He steps forward, glowering down at me as I sit at the edge of the bed. "Don't you realize that? Our parents could be dead right now!" At this, my heart leaps and I stand to my feet as well.

"Don't you dare say that about mom and dad, alright, Tris? You're asking for it!" I rush towards Tristan angrilly, and the expression on his face quickly melts to dismay and terror when I grab the collar of his shirt.

"Owen! Owen, what are you doing?" He asks in a trembling voice. I stop in my tracks and stand my ground firmly. I stare at Tristan, and the creases of fury and madness wipe clean off my face. I look down at my hand, crumpling up the front of his shirt, and my other hand, clenched into a fist. I then look up at Tristan's poor, horrified expression. He's scared of me. He's cowering against the wall in fear and I'm standing in front of him with my muscles flexed. Color drains from my face when I realize what I was about to do. Tears leave Tristan's eyes and he rushes away from the wall.

"Tris. Tris, I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me." He shoves me back with a force I never knew he had and makes for the door. I turn to him to chase him. "Tristan! Come on, man!" At this, he stops mid-pace and turns to glare at me.

"Why can't you just deal with things, Owen? Why can't you deal with them like a normal human being? Why can't you be decent for once?" He shouts at me now, in a broken voice that I'm not used to. My face washes over with shock when he starts to sob in front of me. I don't know how to react. He wipes some tears away with his hands but they keep coming. "That's all it takes, you know? That's all you have to do and it's so simple but you're making it difficult!" He cries. No. No, I've done this. I've made him cry again. I take a step forward with a hand out, not entirely sure where to place it. On his head? On his shoulder? On his wrist? I hover unsurely for a moment before my hand falls back to my side. I lick my lips as my eyes begin to sting. But there's no way in hell I'm crying. I don't cry. Ever. So I let the stinging fade for a moment, while Tristan continues to shake and tear up in front of me. He turns back to his chair and takes a seat, staring at the floor as water falls down his red cheeks. My eyebrows draw together and leave creases on my forehead. My lips purse together as I stop myself from showing too much of my discontent. I don't look at him for some time, but I kneel down by his chair, and feel like I have to now. I look up at him, only to see that he's doing to same. His eyes are like a puppy's, only filled with tears and a door to his heart, showing me just how much I'm hurting him. His lips are trembling and his breath keeps hitching in his throat. I put a nervous hand up, and place it on his forearm. My throat is burning but I swallow and let it fade.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask finally, pulling my gaze away from him. I hear Tristan huff with tears again but at least now I'm not looking at his face, and don't need to witness my creation.

"Just be a decent human being." He whispers. I frown painfully.

"How?" I ask. I think I hear him chuckle once under his breath.

"Be kind, Owen. I need you to show them that you aren't like them. Show them that you can love and accept people who don't fit into what is considered normal." He tells me. Just as I start to shake my head, it fades and I stop myself.

"I can't." I say.

"You can. So, you might damage your rep. But you're also damaging it for the better, Owen. You're helping people. And I need you to do this. Because if I die tomorrow – "

"Tristan."

"If I die tomorrow." He repeats firmer. My face twists bitterly and my throat burns even more. Tristan's breathing becomes shakier. "I want to die knowing that you tried for me." He says. I finally look up and wrench my gaze up to meet his. He stares at me like he really is dying, and it frightens me for a moment. All I can think of is the people downstairs. Those who are like me, and those who loathe us because of the things we say. And then Adam, in the room next to us. He's not a she. It's hard to understand but somewhere within me I know this. I bring myself back to reality and find Tristan's face again. His teary eyes have widened and he appears to be glaring at me in horror. My brow furrows with confusion.

"What?" I ask him cautiously. His eyes dart down over my face for a moment.

"Owen..." He breathes, like he's seen a ghost. I grow anxious. "Owen, you – "

"What, man? What's going on? What's happening?"

"Owen, you're crying!" He blurts out all of a sudden. My eyes widen and fixate on him. My face grows bewildered as pull back, touching my cheek.

"I'm what?" Water reaches my fingertips and I hold my hand out in shock. The top of both my index and middle finger are wet with fresh tears of my own. I stare down at my hand like it's entirely foreign to me. I don't cry. End of story. I just don't. Not even in front of Tris or on my own. I need to man up, right now. I inhale steadily and wipe the weak substance off my face. When I look up at Tristan indifferently, he seems shocked, yet somewhat proud. My throat tightens and I give him a quick pat on his arm, standing to my feet.

"Where are you going?" He asks instantly. I look down at him and extend my hand to his.

"We're getting Adam." I say. He stares at me, trying to speak, but is unable to. "We're getting Adam and we're going downstairs." I finish firmly, getting a grip on his hand. I haul Tristan up to his feet and stumble toward the door.

"Owen." He calls after me. I grab the door knob and thrust it open. "Owen!" He grabs my arm now and pulls me back, staring up at my face. He swallows hard and nods slowly. "Thank you." He tells me in his small, broken voice. Just the sound of his voice like that brings me pain. But I suck it up and contain it before it shows. I give him a nod in return and head out the hall. I turn sharply and reach for Adam's door, but the second my hand falls on the door knob, it flicks open so violently that I get tossed back by about a meter. I look ahead, completely stunned to see Adam staring at me in the doorway. A comic book drops from his hand. His blue eyes are wide and one of his hands is shaking in a mess of bloodied cloth. We glare at one another intensely, while Tristan stands aside, glancing between us. Adam pushes the door open a little more and bashfully looks down at the floor. I try to talk but, just like him for the past week, I can't seem to find my words. Tristan clears his throat uneasily, and Adam inhales straight after.

"I heard you." He says suddenly. I look up just as he does, and our eyes meet. He looks unsteady in my presence. "The walls are thin here." He explains. I continue to stare. Is this the part where I reply? Is this how I end the strife between us? Do I apologise? Right here and now? Adam lifts his gaze again. "I heard everything," he says, "I didn't mean to, but..." He looks down again. I think he's been crying. I'm not sure. There's no sign of tears down his face or anything, but his voice is croaky. Then again, he hasn't spoken in about a week if you exclude 'trust me' and 'are you alright'. It's strange. I forgot what he sounded like. He begins to nod, and then he looks up at me again. "We've got Oreos downstairs." He murmurs when I don't reply. I snap out of it and try to find my voice again.

"Okay." Is all I can manage for a moment. I clear my throat and start to nod my head. "I like Oreos." I say. When Adam smiles feebly and glances at Tristan then me, I feel an invisible weight slip off my shoulders as if by magic.

"Yeah, Oreos are good." Adam agrees, with a hint of playful sarcasm. I find myself grinning sheepishly.

"Very good." I add with that same amount of sarcasm. I'm not entirely sure why, but now even Tristan is smiling, too.

"Alright." Adam nods once and steps out of his doorway.

"Alright." I shrug in return. He shuts the door and glances up at Tristan before putting a hand to his shoulder. He leans in a bit towards him.

"You should've tamed him sooner." He teases. Tristan laughs a bit as I roll my eyes. I turn down the hall, towards the stairs.

"Very funny, Torres." I grumble. I hear their footsteps follow me down the hall as I make it to the first step. "Now hurry up before I change my mind." I whisper, even if I'm grinning. Tristan slaps my arm after that one but it doesn't bother me. My nerves are increasing again. We're almost on the ground floor. I don't want to see Dallas, Luke or Becky's expression when they stare at me as I reappear with my gay brother and new transgender friend. I mean, I don't even think Adam and I are friends. Acquaintances, maybe, since we're starting over. The yellow living room light glints across the steps ahead, and I know that I can't back out. I'd lose Tristan. He'd be disgusted with me. So I have to do this. Not for myself, but for my brother. For a fellow human being. I make it out into the light and look up. Nobody seems alerted by my entrance. I suppose nobody really cares about me or what I get into. But now is my time, as Tris would say, to make a difference. I lick my lips, and rid myself of the knot in my throat. "Anybody else want oreos?" I ask loudly. Their heads turn, and eyes lock on me. I see faces twist when the footsteps behind me reach my side. Clare shifts in her seat.

"Adam." She breathes. Adam slides his one good hand into his pocket and looks up at the rest of them.

"We're getting Oreos. Does anybody want any?" He asks. I wonder how he maintains his confidence like that, knowing all the kinds of crap there is in his life. When there is no verbal response, only stares, he nods and looks at me. I glance between him on my right, and then Tristan on my left.

"Guess it's just us then." I say, sighing. I make a bold move and throw my arms over Tristan and Adam, who are both much shorter than me at my sides. Tristan smiles, and I knows in admiration. "Come on." I breathe, tugging them towards the kitchen. I can just feel Dallas and Luke with ther murderous glares focused on my skull. A bead of sweat runs down my temple and I swallow hard. "Hey, Adam, what, uhh - what was that comic book you were reading just now? Did you bring it with?" I ask, trying to stimulate some casual conversation.

"Nah, I got it off a bookshelf upstairs. Ever heard of Deadpool?" He responds. The name rings a bell, and brings back memories I once thought I lost. I grin and nod.

"Oh, he's heard of him alright." Tristan says from the side.

"Tris." I warn, feeling my ears starting to go red. Adam chuckles softly. I think it might be the first time he's laughed for the whole week as well.

"What?" He asks.

"Tris." I warn again as we reach the counter and separate. Tristan leans against it and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Was it 2004 when you dressed up as him for Halloween?" He recalls with narrowing eyes. I go to warn him again but a voice cuts me short.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dallas practically shouts over us. I look up from the kitchen counter and see him standing to his feet. My muscles tighten impulsively. "What the hell is this? Dude? What - what's happening here?" He asks in a voice that's so sour it sinks into me. Dallas licks his lips and glances from the Bakers to me again. "You don't ever do stuff like this. What's going on? You hated them and now you're... getting Oreos?" His face twists into misunderstanding, and what I think may actually be disgust. So, this is how Adam feels. I swallow hard and look between them.

"Yeah, why? You don't like Oreos?" I ask nonchalantly, with a dash of bitterness. I turn away and examine the food we have piled up in the centre on the kitchen counter. I spot the Oreos and pull them out just as I hear fast footsteps approaching me. When I look up, Dallas is moving towards the counter with his fiery eyes locked on Tristan and Adam. I know that focused look and I drop the Oreos.

"What did you do to him, huh?" He grunts. I swerve along the edge of the counter and bump into him. We meet, forehead to forehead.

"Dude, come on, man. Just don't bother them, alright? Let it go." I huff back.

"What's gotten into you?" He looks over my shoulder and back at Tris and Adam with a threatening expression. "What did you do with him?" He asks again. When he tries to push passed me, I shove him back in return. He hits the counter hard and he glares at me. So does everyone else. I lick my lips as the knot in my throat returns, but I keep my chin up nonetheless. Letting my guard down at this point in time would be most unwise. I decide to speak. To voice my reasons.

"Any of us can die at any second." I begin. I'm starting to sound a lot like Tris. I look down at the floor, and finally my confidence falters. But I can't stop here. I feel eyes on me and clench my jaw closed for a moment. "And, I want to make things right, okay? I have to." I look back at Tris, and see something in his eyes that I don't think I've ever seen before. Admiration. Pride. Amazement. Disbelief. All kinds of things. I look back out at the rest of them. "I mean, you don't really realise that we could actually die at any time. Look at Fiona, Imogen, Zig, and, you know..." I glance at Adam, and see that he looks away from me knowing that I mean to say his parents. When I see the messy wound at his hand, I'm reminded of another name, and look directly up at Becky. "And you. You almost died today, too." I tell her. She half-smiles.

"Yes, but I didn't. Because God was watching over us and - "

"God didn't help you." I raise my voice suddenly. Becky's eyes widen.

"No, Owen, you're mistaken. God helps all who - "

"God didn't help you!" I repeat. "Adam did! Adam helped you!" I gesture to him but he still doesn't want to look up at everyone yet. When I turn back to Becky she looks frustrated and sad, and her cheeks has flushed pink with what might be embarrassment. "Nobody else got up to help you, Becky! Nobody! Your own brother left you, to _die!"_ I bellow. At this, Becky ducks her head down and shoots a soft look back at Luke, who is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to find words to say. She knows I'm right. I can tell by the tears accumulating in her eyes and the pain on her face, though she still shakes her head at me in denial. A voice rises behind me.

"Yeah, Adam's transgender. Yeah, he's different. But, sister, you are uneducated and ignorant." Tristan spits. I would laugh if my throat wasn't so raspy. Becky's watery eyes widen at Tris and tension grows in the space between them.

"And, isn't there something about loving your neighbour or something in the Bible?" Eli asks. I don't like him, but I like the tone he's using against Becky.

"Leviticus, 19:18. Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the Lord." Comes a confident voice from the corner. All heads turn, including mine, to see Clare standing with a cup of tea beside Maya. She looks around at all of us and shrugs. "What?" She grumbles as we stare. She rolls her eyes and pulls out a thin, silver chain from around her neck to reveal a shiny cross at the centre of it. "I'm a good Christian." She says with narrow eyes. This sets Becky off.

_"I'm_ a good Christian!" She retorts, fighting back at last. I back away towards the counter again, realising that I've set off World War Three. And it's everyone against Dallas and the Bakers. Mostly Becky at this point, though.

"You are not a good Christian! At all!" Clare exclaims, laughing slightly. Becky's expression shows that this phrase doesn't compute. I awkwardly shuffle behind the kitchen counter by Adam and Tris while the two cross-bearing girls in our group go head to head. "The bible preaches to love everyone, and you don't! You say God has a path for everyone and yet you try and change someone else's! What kind of logic is that? You are not a good Christian, Becky. You absolutely - " Before Clare can finish, Becky bursts into tears and pushes passed Luke. She darts for the staircase before anyone can stop her. Nobody in the living room speaks as she runs up the stairs, bawling her eyes out. I raise my eyebrows and turn away in hope that Luke won't glare at me. But for all I know, everyone could be staring at Clare. The lack of noise behind me suggests that nobody, not even her beloved brother Luke, has risen to comfort her. A door slams loudly above us, and I face Tristan and Adam again.

Adam keeps to his own, quietly licking the stuffing off an Oreo. His eyes train up towards the staircase then away again. He better not be hoping to talk to her. To offer her comfort. He already saved her life once today when he could have easily let her die. Easily. Why he chose not to, will always bewilder me. Tris looks up at my face with a sense of anxiety. But we both know I've done the right thing, and I think that thought causes him to small feebly at me after a short time. I try and smile back but the gesture twitches off my lips. I think I've spoken enough for one night. We probably all have.


	5. Ambuscade

**AMBUSCADE**

Chapter five: _Elijah G._

I look at myself in the mirror on the wall, and take a deep I've successfully composed myself, I tuck the firearm from the police station into the holder at my waist. When I look up at my reflection again I catch Clare looking at me through the doorway. I smile and turn back to face her.

"Spying on me, are we?" I ask. She grins and pushes the door open.

"You wish." She retorts. "Actually, I'm here to let you know that we're leaving in about ten minutes. You better be ready." She says, almost tauntingly. I make my way over and she gestures out to the hall.

"I'm always ready." I remind her. When I'm close enough I pull her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. Then I grin and she does too. But her smile fades faster than I can understand. My brow furrows in concern, and before I can ask, she gives me my answer. "Have you seen Becky? She hasn't come out of her room since our fight last night." I would keep my serious face on if only she hadn't used that choice of words. I smirk at her, almost about to laugh in fact.

"Ooh, Clare Edwards in a fight." I tease. She rolls her eyes at me and turns to leave. I grab her wrist, chuckling. "Okay, okay, okay. I'm sorry. What you said to her last night was great, though. I liked it." I say. But that's not what she wants to hear. Clare rests her hands on my chest as I wrap my arms around her waist and look down at her worried expression.

"I think I really upset her." She tells me softly.

"She had to hear it. Look, she's probably just overwhelmed. Maybe she can stay in for the day and the rest of us can go out for supplies." I suggest. Clare quickly shakes her head. "What? Why not?"

"I already asked Officer Turner. If Becky stays here on her own and the place gets attacked by the infected… she's screwed. We all know she's screwed." Clare grumbles. I grin a bit. Word choice.

"Screwed." I repeat after her, leaning forward. Clare shoots me an irritated look and I can't help but smirk even more. She rolls her eyes and leaves me, turning away with a groan. "Come on, now." I murmur, tugging on her hand. She turns back to me again.

"I really should talk to her, shouldn't I?" She sighs. I pull a face.

"Bad idea." I say under my breath. Clare gapes at me and I shrug. "I don't like her, Clare. I hate the way she talks about things and never listens. I really don't trust her." I whisper. Clare's gaze trails off as she envelopes herself in thought.

"I know you don't, Eli. But we can't leave her here." She says, touching the side of my face. I look down into her eyes and see that same clear blue ocean of brutal concern. My hand comes down over hers and I bite the inside of my lip.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" I ask after a brief silence. Clare looks down at the floor for a moment before meeting her gaze with mine again. She nods. I feel sympathetic towards her. She always blames herself too much. But she did lash out on Becky yesterday. I, however, found it very tasteful. Owen's sudden personality change hasn't convinced me yet. And I'm not sure when it ever will. But I do respect him now, much more than I ever did. I sigh and peel Clare's hand off my cheek, holding it in mine as my fingers lace through hers. "We'll talk to her. I'll go with you." I say at last. Clare's face brightens at my response. She stands up straighter and presses her lips to mine briefly. I barely return the kiss. When she pulls away, I give her a comforting smile, and let her lead me out. She pulls me forward and whisks me into the hall, eyeing each open door as we pass. The one at the end of the hall remains closed and silent. We end up standing by the door and staring at the wood. I know Clare doesn't want to talk to her. And I, for one, would be fine not seeing her face again. But Clare's too much of a good person to let someone else suffer. She knocks on the door with her knuckles and lets her hand fall onto the doorknob.

"Becky?" She calls. I lick my lips and glance down at her. She expects a response but gets nothing in return. I give her hand a comforting squeeze and she looks up at my face. I force a smile and she takes initiative by twisting the knob and pushing the door open. "Becky." It comes out more sympathetic now. When I step into the room I see that Becky has been reduced to bump beneath a mess of bed sheets.

"She's obviously tired, perhaps we should come back later." I say. Clare nudges me in the stomach with her elbow. The sharp blow makes me wheeze under my breath. Clare sighs and lets go of me to shut the door behind us. The room falls terribly silent when she makes it back to my side, and we stand at the foot of Becky's bed. She hasn't moved since our arrival. Maybe she's dead.

"Becky?" Clare asks again, hoping for some movement. "Look, I'm really sorry for lashing out on you yesterday. But – "

"But it's all the truth so the faster you absorb it the better." I say quickly before Clare can finish. She glares at me and hits my arm. The lump of bed sheets move and Becky's head pops out from under them.

"Can you just leave?" Becky pleads. Oh. Her eyes are red and heavy. Her pretty lips are chapped and her hair hasn't been combed in some time.

"Can _you?"_ I ask, "We have to get going. We need supplies." Becky turns bitter.

"Look, I just need some time alone, okay? Can you give me that?"

"It's dangerous to be on your own right now. They could track you." Clare tells her. Becky looks like she's about to say something, but no words leave her lips. Her blue eyes remained focused on us for a moment before her gaze falls to the floor. She keeps quiet. But she doesn't move to leave with us down the hall. I glance at Clare, but she doesn't return it. She appears to be conjuring up something to say but I can't read her. "Becky…" She begins softly, leaving my side. To my surprise, she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Her back is turned to Becky for a moment before she twists sideways and faces her. "I know this has been a lot to absorb, but… You have to consider the fact that perhaps you've been…" Clare glances at me for a moment, then back at Becky. "You know, doing this whole Christianity thing… wrong?" She ends in a soft voice. When Becky's jaw tightens, but she still refuses to look up at us, I instinctively reach and place a hand on Clare's shoulder. As if to protect from what's to come. Becky's lips shiver open, and for a moment she gapes and says nothing. But then her bright eyes find us again. She looks like she's about to burst into tears when she gives her head a very feeble shake.

"What you said yesterday…" She starts weakly. Her voice is so soft and broken now that I have to take a seat on the bed as well just to hear her. Becky licks her lips. "I never… I never thought of it that way… I feel as if everything I've ever done has just been a – a lie…" She brings a hand over her mouth when her voice trails off, and I see fresh new tears stream down her face. Only now, for the first time in my life, do I feel sympathy for Miss Becky Baker. It's the expression she has on. I can tell by the creases in her face, and the redness of her eyes and cheeks that there is an irrefutable amount of emotional pain and inner turmoil accompanying her words. My heart sinks when Becky brings the duvet up to shield her face as she cries. When I look at Clare, I see that even her own blue eyes have begun to water. Poor, little Baker. Raised to hate what she doesn't know. Left to misunderstand the best kinds of people in the world. Clare reaches out to touch Becky's wrist. For a moment I grow anxious, feeling like Becky would slap her away. But she doesn't. Instead she grabs Clare's hand as well.

"Becky…" I find myself saying. Her fingers go white around Clare's. She gasps for air suddenly.

"I just – I'm really confused right now and I – I don't understand!" Becky whimpers. I swallow hard and look at Clare for advice. But she offers none and remains speechless. I stare back at Becky, who's face is still hidden.

"Look, Becky, just… Remind yourself that we're all on the right path." When I say this, she trembles up from the mess of bed sheets and lifts her gaze up to meet mine. I see her sadness and confusion, and sigh. "We are all exactly how we're meant to be, you know? We're all as we say we are. So, there are some people who… you know, want to be with someone of the same gender. It's a preference. That's still love. How can you deny someone of their right to love?" I ask her. I know Clare is proud of me at this point. For once I'm not trying to shoot Becky down or snap at her. Becky looks at her hands, almost in disappointment. Maybe at me. Maybe at herself. Maybe even at God or her parents.

"You can't." The two words are practically inaudible, but I smile faintly because I know the phrase has fallen from Becky Baker's lips. I feel as if I've achieved something. But before I can ask Becky to get up and head downstairs to the van, Clare cuts passed me with another important matter.

"And Adam," She begins. Becky seems to flinch at the sound of his name.

"I don't understand him." She says almost instantly. My throat tightens at this, and I feel as if everything I've achieved comes crumbling down.

"He's on the right path, too." Clare says. Becky bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. And even as she does this, I can't help but notice something more behind her eyes at the mention of Adam. But I don't bother questioning it. She speaks.

"Adam was born in a girl's body."

"With a boy's brain." Clare adds quickly. Becky looks up at her in confusion once she says this.

"But – "

"His whole life he's had to deal with people trying to tell him that he's a girl. Do you have any idea how many times he's been thrown out of bathrooms? The amount of times he's been tormented and physically assaulted?" At this, Becky's face breaks out in immediate concern.

"But, I would never - "

"Maybe _you_ wouldn't." Clare snaps passed her in a way that shocks me as well. "But the things you preach make other people think it's okay to harm someone for being a little different. Adam's just trying to live his life and you need to be able to tolerate it. He's a boy and that's all you need to know." Clare says. No, she states it. I wonder how she manages to remain so calm. If I had my share in this conversation I'd be yelling by now. But Clare's voice is soothing like a mother's, and her touch is calming against Becky's fingers. "He is a normal boy that's stuck – no, _trapped_ – in a body he never asked for." She tells her. Becky looks down but I can see in her eyes, and the crease in her brow, that she is still confused. Maybe less now, but a part of her doesn't look like it computes. I lean forward, and say what must be said.

"God intended for him to be a guy and that's exactly what he is. But… he didn't want to give Adam the liberty of an easy path." I say. At this, she looks at me. And even Clare does. But she's just shocked that I've said it.

"You think?" Becky asks in a voice full of wonder, maybe even relief or hope.

"We know." Clare says before I can. Becky's gaze falls back to her hands, and her grip on Clare seems to loosen. I think she's putting everything together, but the confusion on her face hasn't entirely faded just yet, which even I know is understandable. "He just wants to make Adam a better person. A better _man._ What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Clare glances at me, and I give her a reassuring nod.

"I mean, Becky… Adam saved your life." I murmur in a low voice. I see Becky swallow hard. She might be in denial, but her eyes flood with fresh tears.

"Nobody was prepared to do what he did yesterday. Not even… Not even Luke. Adam knows that you hate him and yet he still did it. Because he's a good person, Becky. He's a caring friend and his morals mean everything to him." Clare says. When I see Becky getting upset and confused again, I know I have to move the topic away from the incident yesterday. I sigh.

"There are a lot of other people out there who are different. And I hate to say it, Becky, but - you're missing out." I tell her, trying to smile. A brief grin flickers onto Clare's lips as well, and she nudges her head against my shoulder once. I grin down at her, then look back at Becky. Her gaze slowly lifts again and she looks up at us.

"You're missing out. And who knows, maybe if you gave everyone a shot – you'll meet someone different one day who'll change your life." Clare says. Becky's eyes flicker with the quickest amount of excitement, and then they fall. "So, come on," Clare says, taking Becky's hand again. "We've got to get supplies. Maybe you'll find something you'd like to take." She shrugs. Becky stares down at Clare's hand for a moment, and in her eyes I can tell she's still trying to digest our words. She contemplates her options for a couple of seconds before I see her grip on Clare increase. She looks up at us, and tries to smile.

"Are we good?" I ask in a slightly louder voice, trying to make eye contact. Becky looks at me and nods slowly. I sigh and pull myself off the bed, offering her a hand to help her up. "Come on, then." I mutter. Becky looks at my hand for a moment then let's go of Clare's to reach it. I haul her up to her feet carefully. Becky tries to regain her balance before she looks between us anxiously, as if she's expecting something. I stand there awkwardly, not entirely sure why Clare is smiling at me. She then puts her arms out and makes her way to Becky. Oh, a hug.

"Yay." Becky says feebly.

"See, come on. Eli." Clare hugs Becky with one arm and leaves space for me. I shake my head.

"Nah, I'm good." Clare raises an eyebrow.

"Eli." She warns. I stare at her and Becky for a moment before I sigh heavily and give in.

"Alright. Fine." I grumble, walking into the group hug. I put my arms around the two girls as they practically squeeze the life out of me for a few agonizing seconds. "Can we go downstairs now?" I whine after a moment of this. Finally, they pull away and allow me to breathe. Becky wipes the tears from her face while nodding. "Okay, okay, no more crying. Lets just go get what we need and come back." The trip downstairs is light, maybe even friendly. Becky keeps clutching the silver cross around her neck, and it worries me but not too much. After the talk we just had, it may take her some time – but I _think_ she'll come around to it. When we make it downstairs everybody is already waiting in the living room for us. They seem surprised to see that Becky has finally showed face, but she doesn't make eye contact with anyone except Luke, who looks embarrassed by her. Turner escorts us out into the open again. We have to walk to the building next to us to find our van. Turner had to move it yesterday in fear of the infected tracking down the vehicle. We get into the car and we're on a move. I keep Clare close to me and keep an eye on Adam, who sits opposite us next to Maya and Tristan. Like the previous journeys, this one is basically silent. Most of us are too scared to talk. When we're out in the open now, I think most of us feel as if every tiny movement we make could lead a hoard of the infected towards us. So we sit quietly until the van slows to a halt. Turner looks back.

"Okay, this is it. So far it doesn't look like the infected know we're here yet. But if we stay out for much longer, they will. We have to hurry into the building, get what we can, they head back out. Thirty minutes tops." He grumbles. My eyes widen as he opens his car door.

"Thirty minutes? It took us about ten minutes to get here." I say just as he leaves. Dallas opens the back of the van and is the first to step out into the daylight. One after one, we follow after him. The place around us looks like it's in better condition, in comparison to most of what we've seen so far. Even the doors of the department store remain intact. Turner steps into the build and disappears for a moment, instructing us to stay outside. I look around just like everyone else, keeping my guard up and my mouth shut. When I see movement, I turn sharply and glare. But my eyes are playing tricks on me. There's nothing there but an empty street. The front door of the department store creaks open behind us and we all turn around. Turner looks at us and gestures for us to enter.

"Coast is clear." He whispers. We retreat through the doors, which he quickly closes and locks behind us for safe measure. When we turn to face the inside of the store, we stop right in our tracks, gazing around at the tall aisles that stretch all the way to the end. And anything in this store is ours. We can take anything and not worry about the price. I guess this apocalypse has an upside. Turner stacks up the disinfectant, they rest of us go find actual food like meat, vegetables and vitamins. Anything to keep us alive. We familiarize ourselves with the necessities for survival and stock up on them. We make several trips back to the van, loading it with everything we need. We race through the aisles in search for anything and everything. Clothes, drinks, food, household items. When I see Maya getting garden equipment I'm confused for a moment. But I notice that they could also be used as weapons, and inwardly give Maya a round of applause. I turn a corner in search for the second row of garden equipment, but then I spot something odd scattered on the floor. I slow my jog down to a careful walk, and fixate my eyes on the item. I near it carefully, and begin to make out what it is. There are about four or five walkie-talkies strung together by a beige rubber band, and there appear to be a few others missing. I kneel down by it, and notice a piece of cardboard underneath the lot of them. I pick them up and gently set them down on the side. I pick up the cardboard and flip it over, to reveal text that someone has scribbled on the back.

'UNINFECTED ALLIANCE', it reads in black, capital letters. My eyes widen and I turn around.

"Turner!" I call. At my voice, a few of them look back and face me. Turner hands whatever he's holding to Adam, and jogs over.

"What is it, Eli?" He asks on his way over. I show him the cardboard and he starts to read.

"They're more of them. We're not the first to arrive here." I tell him quickly. Turner takes the cardboard from me as I look back at the walkie-talkies. I pick up the bundle and wrench one out of the mess. This doesn't look like something little kids play with at home. These ones look more serious. Whoever set this up must have connections. I look back at Turner, who sets the cardboard back down on the floor.

"We can band together with them and help each other out." He says, placing the other walkie-talkies back on top of it. I reach out to give him the one I took, but he shakes his head. "It's your find, and your responsibility." He says with a pat on my shoulder. "Good job, Eli." He grins at me proudly before standing. I look down at the walkie-talkie and my mind is racing with possibilities. What if we get in contact with another member of the police force? What if it leads to somebody out of town? Maybe they can fly us out of this mess? I tuck the device into the holder at my waist, and stand from the aisle. I lick my lips and jog back to our group, who've crowded around the garden equipment area with Maya.

"What did you find?" Connor asks once I'm close enough.

"A walkie-talkie." I state. My eyes that pan over the group as I slow to a halt. "We can get help." I say. At this, many faces light up, and a couple hugs go around. But I'm too deep in thought to give any of them the time of day. I grab a heavy shovel from it's place and tug it into my hands.

"Eli." There's a voice at my shoulder. I glance back to see Clare by my side, smiling at me with blue eyes, now glistening with fresh tears. Her entire face has been lit up by hope and happiness.

"Clare?"

"We can survive." She tells me, touching my arm delicately. I peer at her for a moment as her smile flickers and widens. "We can – we can get out of this mess, all of us. And we can survive." She whispers. I stare at her for a moment, as if her deduction has startled me somehow. As if it's only just hit me that we can actually do this. We can actually put an end to this fear. I lean forward and kiss her lips. She places a hand to my chest and I'm sure she feels my racing heart. I feel safe for a moment. _Just_ a moment. Because the second I do, glass breaks. Lots of it. I snap away with alert eyes, and glance around. Then there's a scream. Of course I know it's Becky. Who else is the first to scream every time? My eyes are frantic as I step away from Clare and turn down an aisle. Up ahead, I see figures rushing towards us. For a moment, I reach for my gun, but then I realize… These are normal people. They're not infected. But nevertheless, they burst through the windows in a group. A much larger group compared to ours. They come in from all angles and race down the aisles like they've set off a time-bomb.

"Get back!" One of them shouts. They're older than us. Maybe in their twenties or thirties. They don't look like they're in very good condition, but judging by their weapons they surely seem prepared. Maybe they're here for the walkie-talkies too. Maybe they're here so we can work together and protect one another. This idea of mine shatters with the glass above the second I hear gunshots. These people aren't here for the walkie-talkies, and they're not here for an alliance. They're here to stay alive.

"Move, move, move!" They're shooting at us.

"We're not infected!" I shout at them.

"But you're in our way, aren't you?" A man yells back. As they get closer, I turn and grab Clare, only to see that Turner and a few others have already darted for the door. We're being ambushed. By our own kind.

"Clare, we have to go! Now!" I grunt, pulling her towards the door. I know some of our group are still in the aisles. I would turn back for them but I'm sure they're running as well. I hear screaming behind me. I know it's still Becky, but she must have the sense to run. She must. Right? I don't turn back. And just when we're nearest the doors, I hear another gunshot, closer to us now, and suddenly I'm in pain. My right ankle shatters beneath me and I let go of Clare, falling forward. The raiders have shot in the ankle.

"Eli!" Clare is by my side, but my sight blurs for a moment. I roll onto my back and try to sit up. But there is an explosion from several meters away and the force is so great that it pushes Clare back. My head slams against the floor. My body is stunned. Suddenly my ears are ringing and I can barely keep my eyes open. "Eli!" Clare returns and her hands are on my shoulders, trying to pull me up. But in what seems like a second, she's gone. Her nails dig into my shirt for a moment and then she just lets go and disappears. I try and blink myself back to consciousness, but all I see are fragments of my surroundings. Did Clare just abandon me? Did she leave me for the infected to prowl on? I blink harder and bring the department store back to life. Everything is quiet except for the ringing in my ears, which is all I can hear at this point. When I look up, I see Becky. She's screaming at me to move, to get away, _to run for my life._ She's in the arms of the raiders. They've got their hands on her and they're pulling her away down the aisle. She's weaponless and useless to their attack. My heart starts to race but I've lost the ability to talk or move. Everything around me appears to be moving in slow. When I pan my gaze to the right, I see Clare down another aisle. She's thrashing in the raider's arms as well, trying to reach for me but she can't. I feel her name leave my lips but I can't hear it. There is only ringing and movement. I remain paralyzed, watching as the raiders steal them away.

"Bleeding! He's bleeding!" I hear a voice behind me that seems so distant it sounds like an echo in a tunnel.

"The infected are coming!" Comes a scream from elsewhere. When I look up again, I see the raiders dragging both Becky and Clare out the backdoor and away from my sight. And then, from the windows down the aisle, there is more movement. The infected are here. And they've come for me. They've sensed the wound at my ankle and the blood, too. So they rain down from the windows like a thunderstorm and start moving in my direction. Just as I start to panic, there are hands all around me that pull me up from the ground. By the wristwatch against my chest, I can tell that one of my holders is Adam. And maybe Owen and Cam as well. I'm hauled out of the building and down the pavement. In a second I'm thrown through the van doors and I fall onto my back with a loud thud. The impact takes my breath right out of my lungs and brings pain to my spine. The doors shut so loudly that I'm brought out of my trance. The ringing vanishes and I tilt my head up, just as hands and bodies begin to bang and thrash against van doors and sides. Turner steps on the gas and we're off again. I can hear myself breathing now. It's fast and empty, like I'm suffocating and wheezing for air after being held underwater. When I look up at the ceiling, Adam is the first to appear over my body.

"He's been shot!" He states.

"Where? Tell me where!" Turner demands from the driver's seat.

"Right ankle!" Adam says back.

"God damn it!" Turner grunts. I look up at Adam for a moment as he tries to comfort me but then I become alert and sit up.

"No, no, no, man, sit back down." He mutters quickly. I shove his hand away and scan the inside of the van.

"Clare!" I scream suddenly, with widening eyes. "Becky! Clare! They took Becky and Clare!" I bellow, reaching for the doors. Adam pulls me away from them.

"We know! We know, Eli! But for now you just need to – "

"Clare!"

"Eli, we know! They took her and Becky! We know! Just sit back alright, everything is going to be fine!" He yells over me. But his face has flushed red and his cheeks are streaming with tears, as is mine.

"No, Adam! They took her! They took both of them!"

"We know!" Adam shouts again, shoving me back against the floor when I try and move. He glares down at me, shivering, as I glower back up at him. He's gasping for air, and I'm losing consciousness. His lips tremble open. He's trying to be strong but I know that in this case it's not working. "We know." He repeats through his teeth. His face is the last thing I see before I pass out. During my unconsciousness, I see her. I turn and look over my shoulder in that department store, and I see her standing behind me with a smile and watery eyes. In a far away voice, I hear her say,

"We can get out of this mess… all of us." And I touch her cheek with the back of my hand. _"We can survive."_ And then my eyes shoot open, and I'm staring at a dim light above me. The dream is over and reality sinks in. My body is glazed in a layer of sweat, and my heart is racing quickly. When I stare at the ceiling for a couple more seconds, I realize that we're back at base. We're at home. We're safe and the infected haven't found us yet. But Clare and Becky are gone. I stare ahead. Lifeless, and unmoving.

"We've done the best we can for your ankle." I hear a voice at my side, and identify it as Officer Turner. "We managed to snag some first-aid equipment from the department store but it's nothing too fancy. We got the bullet out, though. And Adam's hand is looking better." He tells me. I can't form a proper reply. All I can say is,

"They're gone." It comes out in a raspy whisper. I guess the screaming in the back of the van has wrenched my real voice away. I hear Turner sigh.

"Yes. They raiders have them. For now." He says. At that, my eyes sting with fresh tears and a knot in my throat grows. The raiders really have taken them.

"Do you think they'll kill them?" I ask. Turner hesitates at my question. And I fear for the worst. But he speaks again.

"Maybe," he admits softly, "Or maybe they won't. They may just torture them, or use them as bait."

"Bait? You mean, like, for the infected?"

"For the infected." He confirms after me. I breathe out shakily, trying to remain calm. Turner then reaches forward and pats my arm. "But not on my watch." He says. I blink for a moment, and finally turn my head to look at him as I lie on the counter. "We're getting them back." He states firmly. Just as I'm about to ask how, he answers me. "When we were driving away from the department store, I saw the cars they were using. It's from a bakery somewhere downtown. It's a bit of a long drive but we have to get there as soon as possible before they do anything to the girls." He tells me. I prop myself on my elbows, but a pain shoots up from my ankle suddenly. I wince and try to ignore it.

"When do we leave? In five?" I ask eagerly. He looks at me for a moment, disappointed, then looks back at the door.

"It's night time already, Eli." He says. My heart plunges to the pit of my stomach. I've woken up too late. Too late to save her. "We spent the whole afternoon drenching this street with disinfectant. We've boarded up all the windows and doors and we can't risk exposing ourselves for at least another twelve hours. They'll be prowling for us tonight, Eli. All of us." He sighs. I stare down at the bandages wrapped around my ankle, before I look to my side at the living room. Adam, Cam and Maya have found their places on the couches and mattresses on the floor, and are already asleep. I look at Adam and wonder how he can rest so easy tonight, knowing that Clare is in danger. Maybe he's just pretending. He was panicking on the van if I remember correctly.

"We leave tomorrow though, right?" I ask Turner after a moment of silence. When I look back at him, he nods.

"Yes." He says. With a hand on my shoulder, he eases me onto my back again. "You should get some rest, Eli." He tells me. I can't form a response to that either. I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep right now, knowing that she could be dead. That even Becky could be dead. Turner, who now leaves me to head for the stairs, said the raiders could be torturing them. Or tossing them out for the infected to rampage on them. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that? I'm not sure how I do, but perhaps I'm on medication. Whatever it is – it allows me to shut my eyes and drift off to sleep again. But even in my dreams, I know nowhere is safe anymore.


	6. Rescue

**RESCUE**

Chapter six: _Tristan M._

All is silent at the back of the van now. I don't think anyone's in the mood for talking. Adam's gone quiet again and this time Eli's joining him. Luke hasn't been too bothered by Becky's abduction, but I'm sure he must be. He's got to be. I look at him from across the van and see him looking at his gun questionably. Maybe he's dozing off. I am, too. No surprise there. It's been one hell of a long drive. But I can't sleep now. I'm too scared. Whenever I hear a noise, I jump and grab Owen's forearm. He snapped at me for the first few times, but he's gotten used to it now. It's been two days since Becky and Clare were captured. Two whole days. We haven't been able to leave base because the infected managed to locate us and were prowling around for ages. We couldn't risk going out and facing them so we had to wait for them to clear. We waited two whole days. And even that short amount of time could be too long. Everyone's on edge now. Everyone is drained.

We haven't been this quiet since the canister drop-off day. Nobody is speaking to one another. The only person whose said a word to me is Owen. Even Maya and Tori are as silent as can be. Well, Tori's always silent now, to be fair. Ever since we lost Zig she hasn't quite been herself. I try to tell her that it wasn't her fault but she never listens. She doesn't sleep well at night, and we often catch her muttering things to herself and crying. She's never fully aware of her surroundings either so we always have the act as her guide. There are some moments when we think the old Tori is back, but in less than a second she snaps out of it and returns to wallowing in her misery. Her mind is elsewhere. The old Tori is gone. This leaves me lonely, mostly, so I've gotten a little closer to Maya and Cam, though he doesn't like talking to me much.

It's even more frightening with the hockey players and, especially, the Bakers around. But now that both Becky and Clare have been abducted by those raiders, or whatever they are, I actually want them back. Even Becky.

Before I know it, I hear the sound of four tires digging into a mess of rubble and Officer Turner pulling the gear into park. I look up from my hands and peer up at the driver's seat. If I thought it was quiet before, I was truly mistaken. Because now the van seems to be filled with ghosts. I don't think anybody's even breathing. I'm definitely not. Turner looks right back at us and he doesn't need to speak to tell us that we've arrived. That we're in danger. That we have to be careful. We know. So, instead, he gives us a nod then he turns in his seat, heading for the door. I press my back to the side of the van and take a deep breath. I hear the doors open, and the people around me start to leave. But I can't bring myself to even looking at the exit. Owen plants his hand on my shoulder.

"Tris," he breathes, "We have to move." He tells me, pressing his fingers onto me a little harder. I finally lift my gaze and look sideways at him. He gives me a pat.

"Can't I just wait here?" When I ask this, he sighs heavily and pulls a face.

"No. The infected could target you." He says in a scolding voice. I purse my lips and begin t nod. "Come on, it'll be fine." He mutters. Even when he tries to comfort me I can sense the doubt in his voice. I try not to think about it as I turn on the spot and place a hand on the open door, pulling myself out. My feet touch the filthy pavement and I feel a nudge at my side immediately. When I turn, it's only Tori with a gun in hand.

"Here. You'll need this." She says. My eyes widen and I take the gun away from her.

"Tor, don't point that thing at me!" I insinuate. Maya, who stays by her side, grins at my response. When I look back at Tori, I see that her cold, blank expression remains. She's still gone.

"Doesn't matter anyway." I hear her say under her breath. She looks down at the ground with some sort of longing, and by the time I try to comfort her she turns away from me and wanders off. I glance at Maya worryingly and she returns it. We both don't know how to fix this. Perhaps there's nothing we can do to help her. But I refuse to lose hope.

"We have to move." Turner hisses from up front. I lift my gaze to see him observing us with a stern expression. He doesn't look at us like we're kids anymore. He looks affronted, dangerous, frightening. He licks his lips and turns his back to us. He lifts a hand and gestures for us to follow. We've set up this entire plan, but it's already slipping from my mind. I think we're supposed to head through the bad door and just run in and grab them out. If they're still alive, that is. We sneak around a corner and peer back ate the building. From where I stand, I think I see people swaying around the back of the building. When Turner grabs me by the front of my shirt and shoves me back into our group, I realise what they are before he even opens his mouth to warn us. "It's the infected." He breathes. I swallow hard and already fear that they've heard me. "I - we..." Turner looks around the corner again, with ambivalent eyes and creased brows. He looks back at us, tugging his firearm closer to his chest. "We run." He states.

"What?" Dallas asks, exasperated. "You want us to run right into them?"

"No, I want us to run _through_ them." Turner says with another uptight glance back at us. I raise my voice to speak.

"Officer Turner, sir, I mean no disrespect, but... You're an officer, so I guess this stuff is pretty basic to you. But, we're just teenagers."

"Not anymore, you're not." He sighs, loading his weapon. It makes a loud cracking noise which stuns me alert. I scramble to get a grip on my own firearm, though I know close to nothing about using it.

"We move on the count of three." Turner says. "One." I glare at him, starting to shake my head.

"No. No." I mutter, feeling my heart skip in my chest. Turner signals us with a wave of his hand, and crouches before trudging sideways, out into the open.

"Two." He grumbles. I'm about to protest again but Owen shoves me down, and I see that everyone else is crouching too. I shake my head another time. I am not in any shape or form, ready for this.

"Owen." I intone desperately. He grabs my shoulder, just as Turner takes in a zip of air.

"I've got you, Tris."

"Three!" Suddenly, Turner launches forward. Before I can even process his action, those around me have followed him into what could very well be a death trap. I don't have the will to move, but a hand on my shoulder drags me forward. My feet hit the pavement and Owen tugs me close. I hear gunshots up ahead, but there are too many of us for me to see who's shooting who, or what. Owen brings up his arm suddenly, gun out, and yells at me.

"Head down, Tris!" He shoves the back of my head towards him, and now my face is in his chest. I cradle my front into him as he fires his gun, again and again, and we keep running. Objects and substances crunch under my feet as Owen hauls me in different directions and shoots overhead. He shields me with his body and shouts at Turner whenever he can. But I can't see a thing. Everything is the colour of his shirt, so I shut my eyes and hide away from the commotion. And like the coward I clearly must be, all I do is pant and scream and hope for the best. Then I trip over a small bump and Owen shoves me forward. I fall into several pairs of arms now, and can finally open my eyes. I'm in a shadowed area now. When I look down at where I tripped, I spy the wedge of a doorframe. Owen quickly appears between the frame and slams the door shut. The people cradling my fall push me up to my feet, and I bump into Owen again. He looks up at me and grabs my arm.

"You alright?" He asks. I nod impulsively, though my entire body might be shaking. Owen taps the firearm that I have clutched uselessly in my hands. "Next time, use this and this," he taps my temple, "Okay?" He breathes. I give him another nod, which he bothers to return this time. He pats my shoulder hard before making his way passed me. I look back after him, and see that some of the others are already dispersing up the stairs, and through t the next room. I forgot we're here. That we've made it to the bakery. I instantly grip the firearm tighter, and try to follow after Owen, who is already on his way to the second room. He turns around at the sound of my footsteps and looks sternly at me.

"Don't follow me. Go upstairs after Tori and the others." He instructs in a sensible manner. I look up at him in confusion.

"You want us to separate?" I ask him in a small voice. He sighs, and looks into the other room, as if he's checking for the others. I grit my teeth and realise there is nothing more I can say to convince him otherwise. I swallow my pride and turn for the staircase. Now is not the time to think for myself. I have to think about Clare and Becky. Besides, Tori and the others are already way ahead of me.

"Tris," Owen hisses from below. I keep my feet planted to the ground, and stay steadily on the stairs. I do not turn to him when he speaks. "It'll be fine, I promise." He tells me. There is a pause between us before I hear a scuffle of shoes and then a swift turn. I don't need to turn back to check if he's still there, because I know he's gone. Instead, I stand up defiantly and continue up to the second floor. Each step is covered in a layer of dust littered with multiple footprints and dark substance. I assume it's blood. When I reach the top of the stairs, I bump right into a mass of bodies, which I quickly identify as Tori, Adam and Dallas. Dallas turns to me and shushes me jeeringly. I quickly correct myself and my stance, filing in behind them. We stand in a well-spaced hallway, painted a sloppy white and grey. Everything about this place is forlorn and I can almost hear the echoes of those who once worked here. On the right side of the hall I spot four doors, and to the left, only one. The one of the left is broad and metallic, with a heavy handle right in the centre of it. At the end of the hall lies another ascending staircase formed in a black spiral. We prowl down, falling entirely silent. The only noise that is audible to me is the sound of my own heartbeat. I'm starting to sweat irritably at my temples, hands and down the back of my neck. Dallas has his gaze locked on the right, Tori has hers on the left, and Adam seems to be watching the staircase up ahead. Where am I supposed to be looking? Behind us? From the side I catch Dallas nearing the first door. His hand nestles on the doorknob and he sucks in his breath. I want to call out and tell him to stop, but he opens it before I can. Tori, Adam and I crouch back and wait as Dallas pushes the door open noiselessly and peers inside. I expect to hear gunshots, but nothing happens for some time. Dallas pulls out of the doorway and looks back at us ambivalently.

"It's empty." He mutters as he shuts it. Adam and Tori glance between each other, before Dallas turns to face down the hall again. We resume the same approach as before, and slither towards each door like a pack of cunning animals. We near the second door, and I prepare myself this time. Dallas touches the doorknob and twists it. Just as he peers inside, I catch something in the corner of my eye and turn to face the metallic door on the left. The three circular glass panels by the door's side are what have my attention. I glance back at Dallas then turn towards the panels again. They make no sense to me for a moment, and then I peer closer. One of them is a timer, one has a number pad, and the other looks like it monitors temperature.

"What's that?" Comes a quiet voice at my side. I jump when I turn to face its owner. It's only Tori. I sigh and look back at the door. It has the tinniest little window just above my head, but I can't see through it because of the white, wispy steam pressed to the glass.

"A freezer, I guess." I respond in that same hushed tone.

"Pst." Comes a snap. Tori and I look back to see Dallas with an angered expression. "There's no time for chit-chat." He scolds, almost inaudibly. He has a point. I crouch again and follow after the three of them. We scale the walls and head for the third door. Just as Dallas's fingertips reach the broze doorknob, we hear a hum. No, not a hum. A whimper, maybe. The four of us remain entirely still as we wait for it to come again. I hear a muffled impact against something, and then the whimper comes back as a sharp yelp. It's Clare. Or Becky. It's someone. Dallas's hand slides off the doorknob, and we all begin to approach the final door. As we crowd around it wordlessly, we hear a harsh gurlge of a voice.

"…no. No, you're staying right here with us!" The man orders. He sounds older than us. Maybe in his thirties or forties. "No! You shut up and sit still!" He continues. I look up at Dallas with worry spreading like a wildfire across my face. He swallows hard and slides his finger over the trigger. His eyes dart from the doorknob to the three of us then back again. His motives are unclear to me until starts to bring his arms back, aiming his elbows by the doorknob. My heart leaps in my chest, and I almost loose my grip on my firearm. But I have to keep my head, and my focus. I watch Tori and Adam tense in front of me as Dallas holds his breath, and swings. This is it. The door slams open and Dallas lurches inside and almost immediately gunshots follow. Adam and Tori spill in and I know I have to as well. I rush through the door just in time for the man Dallas has hit to collapse to the ground, while another darts away behind a desk. Adam grabs my arm to pull me behind a set of crates, but as he does, I catch sight of Clare. She's in the center of the room, tied down in a chair. I see blood but I don't know where it's coming from. Her body disappears from view when I take shelter behind the crates and face the dull gray wall. I slide down to the floor as bullets are exchanged between Dallas and the man across the room. My biggest fear is that Clare gets helplessly caught in the crossfire. Dallas falls back behind the crates, cursing. When I turn to him I see blood at his wrist. He's been shot but it wasn't a direct hit. It's barely skimmed him but the impact is enough to break skin and draw blood. I lick my lips and stare at the wall again as Adam speaks.

"Clare!" He shouts. More gunshots. Adam ducks further towards the floor. "Clare, we're getting you out! Don't worry!" He calls. I slow my breathing and realize that Clare could already be dead. And where is Becky? Have they disposed of her already? Now is not the time to be afraid. Now is not the time to be Tristan Milligan. Now is the time to be like Owen. I suck in my breath and look up at as shadow moving across the wall. With whatever confidence I've managed to salvage, I twist on the spot and hold my firearm over the crates, exposing myself. I see the man moving away from the table and heading for the door at the end of the room. Adam grabs my arm just as my finger finds the trigger. "Tristan, get down! You're going to –" I fire. Once. Only once. And I blink just as I do it. I fear I've done something redundant and missed, or even worse, hit Clare. But instead the man cripples forward with a cry of pain. I haven't hit him anywhere vital, but when he collaspes to the ground I see that he clutches his calf. Everything becomes quieter as the man struggles on the floor. Dallas peeps up from the crates and stares at me for a moment.

"Good shot." He mutters in disbelief. I feel a wave of pride rush through me and know I've done my name some good.

"Clare." Adam gasps, bringing me back to my senses. I push aside my ego and look away from the man as Dallas goes to finish him off. I swerve around the crates towards the center of the room where Clare remains strapped down in a steel chair. The dry, hefty ropes are tied around her so tightly that they visibly pinch her skin. Adam kneels down beside her and drops his firearm, quickly going to untie her. The tears, both new and dry, down Clare's cheeks and neck are mixed in with an accumilation of sweat, and blood which leaks from her lips. She also has a piece of fabric that parts her mouth and prevents her from speaking. Her blue eyes are a sea of pain and without a moment's hesitation I start helping Adam with the ropes. I hear gunshots downstairs. Many of them. There isn't much time. I reach up and untie the fabric at Clare's mouth. When I pull it off her she gasps for air even if she'd been breathing out her nose.

"Becky!" She croaks instantly.

"Becky! Becky, where's Becky?" I ask her quickly, kneeling down by her side just as the ropes fall to the ground. I start to fan my face with my hands, feeling as if I'm losing breath by panicking. Clare's arms and neck are covered with streaks of pink, purple and red from pressure. With her hands finally free, she wipes blood from her chin and sways forward. Dallas and Adam are quick to steady her. She looks up at me.

"The freezer." She chokes out. My body stiffens and my heart stops.

"The freezer." I repeat, eyes widening in realization, "The freezer, oh god, she's in the freezer!" I find myself on my feet again and rushing out of the room. Tori is hot on my heels as we fall out into the hall and chase after the giant metallic door. When we reach it I drop my firearm and check the timer panel, which clearly reads eleven minutes. The temperature reads 14 degrees fahrenheit.

"We're too late." Tori deduces in a whisper. I shake my head.

"No, we can't be, Tor." I grasp the handle, turning the wheel along the arrow directory. Tori snatches my forearm.

"Tristan, we're too late – this is no time to play hero!" She bellows over me as the gunshots increase on the level beneath us.

"Yes, it is!" I snap back. Dallas and Adam reappear into the hall with Clare between them, holding onto their shoulders for support. I grab the wheel again and twist it, but it doesn't seem to be working. What if Tori's right? What if we really are too late? The handle doesn't budge. Not even slightly. "It's jammed." I speak the dreaded words. Clare gasps for air, but I'm sure her throat is too dry to form a sentence. It looks like she's trying to indicate something but I can't make out what she means. Adam and Dallas let her sink to the floor and they rush over, trying to turn the handle as well. Even with all their power it's not moving at all. It keeps getting stuck within the first three inches, then they shove back and try over and over again, thudding their entire weight into each pull. And it still doesn't move. Finally, Clare digs her nails into Dallas's ankle.

"2178!" She whimpers at first.

"What?" Dallas breathes. Clare looks up at him with her teary blue eyes and shakes her grip on him.

"2178!" She repeats, now louder and desperate. Then, a switch flicks in my brain. The pannels. I spin to the circular keypad and flip the glass over it open.

"Tristan?" Dallas questions.

"The password!" I exclaim, pressing my fingers to the faded keys. When I've finished, I hear a loud sibilant wheeze, and notice a form of icy white steam whistling out from the doorframe. The wheel begins to twist on its own. I stand back slightly and look at Clare, who rests against the wall and has her eyes shut, wheezing for air. For some reason that I do not understand, Adam catches my attention when he lurches forward impatiently and forcefully turns the wheel faster himself. His eagerness to get to Becky surprises me, just as it surprised me the day when we moved base. I don't understand his courage. And I probably never will. Nevertheless, he pulls and pulls until the door seemingly falls loose. Adam heaves it open and lets it slam to the wall. Steam tumbles out of the room quickly, and evaporates into the air. As the silver room begins to clear, we look straight through the doorframe. In the center, between empty shelves and crates, sits miss Sunshine State Becky Baker. Unlike Clare, the ropes remain around her wrists and ankles, but nowhere else at all. She sits motionlessly with her head ducked down and her hair over her face.

"Becky." Adam murmurs. When I glance back at him, the shock and fear riddled across his face is pallable. He bursts into the room and we quickly follow after him, leaving Tori outside with Clare. When we reach her I feel my body starting to become weak. We're too late, we're too late. I practically throw myself behind the chair and pull at the ropes on her hands. My skin meets hers, and I feel just how icy cold she's gone. Adam skids in front of her and his mouth opens, trying to form something, but all that leaves his lips are empty sentences. When I wrench the ropes off of her, her hands swing loosely through the air with no reaction. I crawl to where Adam is just as he reaches up and gently pushes her head back. My stomach lurches with bile. Her skin is paler than white paper. Her pink lips have gone blue, and a single line of blood trails down her chin. The crimson substance is frozen like ice. Her eyes are open but they're glassy and unmoving. Dead.

"Oh my god – "

"Holy…" Even Dallas turns away from her, with a hand to his lips. Adam remains in front of her, staring. His eyes become frantic as he holds Becky by her jaw. His face breaks in pain.

"She's freezing." He whispers. Dallas has his hands on the back of his neck, and his eyes are shut as he shakes his head.

"We're too late, man." He says. Adam stares at Becky's face. He's still trying to speak, but nothing's coming again. All he does now is shake his head.

"No." He says, barely audibly.

"Adam, she's dead, there's nothing we can – "

"No!" Adam intones harshly. To my surprise, he's crying now. I'm sure of it by the rise and fall of his breath and the way his voice breaks. He holds Becky's face in both his hands. "Becky. Becky, wake up, you're fine. It's fine. Everything's fine." He tells her. She can't hear him. I know that she can't. I sit back and trying to ease the unsettled feeling in my stomach. "Becky, please!" He begs now. My insides twist. I hear him shake her. "Come on! Don't do this! Just…" His voice trails off, and the room grows horrifically silent except for the gunshots and yelling downstairs. I hear Adam sniff. "She's not dead and we're taking her with us." He states firmly. At this, I lift my gaze and catch him trying to pull Becky up.

"Adam, she's gone."

"No! She's not, she's breathing!" Adam yells back. I frown and lean forward. A strand of blonde hair that hangs just in front of Becky's parted, bloodied lips sways back and forth softly. Becky is alive.

"Dallas, she's breathing – she's alive!" I shout quickly. Dallas rushes over, staring with wide eyes. Adam tries holding Becky up again but it's no use.

"I can't carry her. You're going to have to. I'll support Clare, at least she can stand." He says sternly, glaring at Dallas. Dallas nods and swallows hard. He hauls Becky's arm over his neck and starts to pull her up. I watch as Adam's jaw tightens and wipes the tears off his cheeks. By the look on his face, I can tell that he doesn't want me to ask about his desperate attempts to save Becky. I keep my mouth shut. For now. Just as Dallas has an arm under Becky's knees and manages to hold her up – I hear a scream from outside. And what's worse is that I know that scream more than anything. I've heard it over and over in the back of the van, and late night in bed.

"Tori!" I call, dashing passed Dallas. Adam accompanies me and when we emerge through the room, my worst fears are met. There is a man just behind Tori, and he has her in his arms. But he is weaponless. His eyes meet mine and things are even worse than I imagined. He's infected. I slap my hand to my side for my gun, but I remember dropping it by the door earlier. My heart stops in fear. Adam, however, fires before I can just as Tori squeals again. The infected man falls back with a groan. Tori bends over, clutching her shoulder. I race for her. "Tor…" I say in a consoling voice. Just as I touch her arm, she snaps a hand forward and slams it into me. The force of her push shoves me back onto Adam. Blood dribbles from her shoulder down her arm. My eyes dart up for just a second to see an open wound at the collar of her shirt. I look at her face, she's crying.

"Tris, go." She says under her breath. My eyes widen and I step forward again. "Tris, go!" She repeats in a scream.

"No!" I shout back. "You're my bestfriend, and we're getting out of here! We're going home! It's just a scratch!" I plead while my eyes begin to sting. Adam voice comes in at my shoulder.

"It… it's not…" He whispers hoarsely. Tori grasps her shoulder and the look on her face is so painful that I feel it in my bones. Adam takes my wrist but I shove him back and rush for Tori again. I cup her face.

"Tori! Wake! Up!" I shout. She begins to shake her head.

"No, Tris, you don't understand… Zig – I want this! I want this for Zig, Tris!" When she says this, I begin to realize that she never did call for help. She waited for the man to attack her. She didn't even shoot. I clutch her, shaking my own head as my tears begin to race down my cheeks.

"No. No, Tori, it's just a scatch! You'll be fine!" I tell her. Adam grabs me again, pulling me away from her.

"I won't, Tris." Tori says shakily. Adam parts me from her, and another set of hands suggests that Clare must be standing too. A cry wrenches through me.

"Tori! Come with us right now!" I order desperately. She moves away from me, and the blood seeps through her shirt. "Tori!" I call.

"It's not just a scratch, Tristan! Any contact with an infected person by blood will turn you into one of them!" Dallas shouts, he's further down the hallway at the stairs. I stare at Tori's face through my blurred vision and reach out for her again.

"Tristan!" Adam shouts.

"No, Tori!"

"We have to _go!" _Dallas roars. My fingers touch hers just as Adam yanks me away. The force is so great that I almost topple over onto the floor. I thrash in Adam and Clare's arms but they're too strong and I'm too weak. In a couple of seconds I'm being dragged down the stairs. I look up, screaming for her. The last I see of Tori is her cradling herself to the wall, and sinking against it to the floor. I'm enraged. I'm blinded by tears and I just keep screaming. I have no idea where they're taking me, and I don't care what happens on our way there. All I know is that Tori is upstairs on her own and she's been infected. All I know is that she's my bestfriend. That I love her. That I will always love her. Everything is a mix of colors and voices, but I can't quite put anything into focus. I only begin to collect myself when I feel metal beneath me and find myself in the van again. I curl up on my own and dig my nails into my skull. I think I'm saying her name on repeat. My lips form the two syllables over and over but I don't know if I'm speaking. I don't even know if I'm awake. I feel hands on me as the van races down a road. Everybody is yelling, but I can't make out what they say. A harsher touch suggests that Owen is one person comforting me. A softer one may be Maya. Whoever they are, they can't help me right now.

I see Tori's face as she slides to the ground in tears. The despair she wore. The words she said. _I want this. I want this for Zig, Tris!_ It was suicide all along. She brought this onto herself and she always intended to. After what seems like hours, but may only be a matter of twenty minutes, I finally can see again. I look up from my hands, and see that Owen and Maya have not left my side. Maya's face is burried against me, and I can see her shaking with tears. Everyone else's faces come into focus and I can see where the yelling is coming from. Adam and Luke are having a go at one another again. The ringing in my ears slowly begin to fade as I blink myself back to reality.

"…you get your hands off of her because I'm her brother and I say so!" Luke's voice wavers through the thin air. I look ahead and see Becky in Adam's arms now. Even Dallas holds a part of her. I know what they're doing, they're using their body heat to bring her back to consciousness. Adam yells something but once again his voice fades out and I can't understand the rest of the conversation. Suddenly, Becky lifts a shaky hand at it touches Adam's neck. He jumps and stops mid-sentence, glaring down at her. She blinks slowly and lifts her gaze to look up at him. "Becky!" Luke gasps, trying to scoot his way towards them.

"Stay away, Luke." I hear her mutter.

"Becky, I was so worried about – "

"Stay away, Luke!" Her voice cracks and Luke stops right where he is. His face, along with Adam's, falters in shock. Becky, now shivering, looks back at her brother. The bitterness on her face is frightening. "You're never there for me! You never help me – everyone else does! How come you don't? You're Christian! You're my brother and you never help me!" She cries. I know she intends to be loud and demanding but her voice is so weak that she can barely raise it at all.

"Well, Becky, I…" Luke's eyes widen as Becky hides her face in Adam's shoulder and clutches him, shaking with what may be relief, fear or sadness. Whatever it is, it shocks all of us. Did someone smack some sense into her when I wasn't looking? Adam holds her carefully, and the touch is so familiarly delicate that I crumple back into a mess of limbs. Tori's gone. She's gone. More than anything I want to see my bestfriend again. I want to see her smile at me one more time and tell me that I'm special. But she's gone. In fact, she's been gone for some time now. But she has nothing to be scared of anymore. Now she is fearless.


End file.
